Between Friends (17 page)

Read Between Friends Online

Authors: D. L. Sparks

Tags: #Fiction, #Suspense, #General, #African American Police, #Urban Life, #Thrillers, #African American

BOOK: Between Friends
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“Baby, this is the best place for her right now. Where is your sister?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “She left a little while ago.”
“Okay, let her know I called.”
“Call if you need anything.”
“I will.”
I let out a sigh, rubbed the knot in my shoulder, and tried to figure out what to do. I felt so helpless—or worse, I felt useless. My grandmother was fighting for her life, a life that had meaning. I had nothing to show for mine right now, except a bunch of deception and conflict.
When our call ended, something inside me snapped. I made my way down the hall to the kitchen and sank onto one of the kitchen chairs and cried. My mind was all over the place. I needed to call India and some other family members. I reached for a tissue, and Trip was there, wrapping me in his arms and trying to calm me down. I cried into his shoulder.
“Baby, let it out,” he encouraged. “It's okay.”
“Why her? Why
my
grandmother?” I cried. I felt so selfish. I would never wish anyone's grandmother sick or dead; I just wanted mine a little longer. I needed her.
The sound of Cameron's playing stopped my pity party. I lifted my head from Trip's shoulder and looked toward the hall. He cupped my chin and looked into my eyes.
“I should be comforting you. Your partner is in the hospital.”
He smiled. “I'm okay. Go lie down. I can keep an eye on him. You need some rest.”
I shook my head. “I can't let you do that.”
“Why not?”
I raised my eyebrow. “Have you ever watched kids before?”
He gave me a look like he was offended, then he smiled. “I'm a DEA agent. I catch hardcore criminals for a living. I think I can handle a toddler.”
That made me smile. “You don't know Cameron.”
He hugged me close again. “We'll be fine.”
I was wary of leaving him alone with Cameron, but I was mentally exhausted. I was no good to my son right now, anyway, so I agreed and made my way to my grandmother's room. The embroidered blanket was still disheveled from them coming to get her. My heart ached when I noticed her slippers still resting beside her bed, waiting for her to slide her feet into them. I bent down, picked them up, and placed them on the chair. I would take them to the hospital tomorrow.
I curled up in her bed and hugged her pillow. I didn't want to cry, but I did. I wanted her back, wanted her here. My issues were insignificant right now. Nothing else mattered right now. I called work and told them what was going on, and that I had no idea when I would be back. Family really did come first, I realized. Luckily, the club owners were understanding and told me to take my time.
I wasn't sure how to fix this, but I knew I had to do something.
And God had even met me halfway.
The hardest thing to do ... was right downstairs.
 
I don't know how long I'd been asleep. I thought I was dreaming when I heard my sister's voice. She sounded stressed as she shook my sleeping body.
“Idalis!” Her voice was a harsh whisper. “Get up!”
I looked around the room and blinked my reality back into focus. My grandmother's world came rushing back to me, a cruel reminder of what I was doing there.
“What is your problem?” I struggled to sit up. “And why are you whispering?”
She had a panicked look on her face, which caused my heart to jump.
“Uh, we have a”—she stopped and took a deep breath—“no,
you
have a problem.”
“What are you—”
That's when I heard the voices. Their tone was calm and monotonic, but I could sense a growing intensity. Then, as if I had been zapped with a stun gun, I jumped up and ran to the window. The all black Dodge Charger police cruiser parked out front behind the black Tahoe confirmed my worst nightmare.
Linc was here.
“How long has he been here?”
She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “I just got here.”
My first thought was Cameron; my second thought involved an ambulance and body bags.
I heard Lincoln ask, “How long has she been sleep?”
Trip answered, “About an hour.”
Then Lincoln spoke again, “Yo, why are you even here, pot'na?”
“I came to check on my friend and her grandmother, just like this case, doing your job for you.”
“Well, I'm here now, so you can go.”
I looked at India. “Where's Cameron?”
“Playing downstairs.”
I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. “You
left
him!” I fussed.
She just sat there, wide-eyed, like she was totally clueless on what to do.
I took a deep breath, prayed to God, then headed downstairs. As I walked toward the living-room, I noticed Cameron playing in the middle of the floor. Lincoln was standing by the doorway and Trip was across the room, both facing each other, with my son in the middle. I brushed past Lincoln and picked up Cameron, joining him in the middle of all the madness. He smiled and hugged my neck.
I returned his smile. “It's way past your bedtime, little man.”
Both Lincoln and Trip made a move toward me, but I quickly gave both of them a look that said:
Don't even try it
. I took Cameron and sat on the couch with him. My mind was racing. I was more nervous than a hooker in church during altar call, but I didn't want them to know. Somehow I had to regain control of what was going on, and now was going to be the time.
I spoke in a soft, controlled tone, which forced them to listen. “This is how this is going to go”—I looked at both of them, then continued—“and neither of you is going to raise your voice in front of Cameron.”
“Idalis—” Lincoln tried to interject, but I just held up my hand and silenced him.
My sister appeared in the doorway. “Leave her alone, Lincoln,” she snapped. “I called him and asked him to come.”
I was shaking so bad that I thought I was going to drop my son to the floor. Lincoln looked at both of us as anger rode his body, hardening him. I scanned him, trying to ignore the gun on his hip.
I knew how people could get crazy in situations like this, and he had definitely proven he wasn't the same man I'd fallen in love with. His eyes went from Trip to me, and back again. They did that dance a couple more times before he locked eyes with me.
“I'm going back to work.” He turned and walked toward the front door. “His ass better not be here when I get back.”
I handed Cameron to my sister. “Can you take him upstairs?”
She glared at Lincoln before heading up the steps.
I followed him to the front door. He opened the door slightly before turning to face me. “Fuck is he doing here, Idalis?” he asked.
I let out a sigh and ran my fingers through the many tangles in my hair. He had no idea how close to the edge I actually was.
“Lincoln, you know he's my best friend,” I said.
He slammed the door shut, making me jump and causing the small mirror on the wall next to it to shake. Before I knew it, he was in my face. “You think I give a damn about some bullshit high school friendship?”
“Lincoln, keep your voice down.” My voice was weak and I felt like my throat was closing up.
“I'm only gon' ask you one more time, Idalis. Why is he here?”
I co-signed on India's lie. “My sister told you. She called him. My mother and grandmother practically raised him. He's just concerned, that's all.”
“That's bullshit, and you know it.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose.
He let out a sigh, then backed off a little. “You need to take your ass home.”
“Lincoln, I can't just—”
Fire rose in his eyes and I saw his jaw tighten.
He snatched the door open and it slammed against the wall behind it, causing me to step back a little. Before it could bounce back, Trip was in the foyer and Lincoln was standing in the doorway.
Lincoln directed his fire at him. “What?” His anger caused his voice to boom in the small foyer. He frowned at Trip. “Oh, now you wanna play protector? Shouldn't you be at the hospital on deathwatch pot'na?”
I lowered my head. My heart sank when he said that.
When I looked up again the look in Trip's eyes scared me. It was a look I'd never seen before.
“Stop it”—I stepped in the middle—“Cameron is upstairs.”
At that moment my sister came running down the steps, ready to jump in and fight, if necessary.
India spoke up. “Since my sister won't say it, I will. I want
both
of you to leave. We are dealing with too much, and this is uncalled for. And I don't want it in my mama's house,” she argued. “So, please, just leave my sister alone.”
Trip walked over to the steps and placed a kiss on India's cheek before giving me a weak hug. “Call me if you need anything.”
He ignored Linc and headed out to his truck. A few moments later the engine turned over and he sped off.
Lincoln stared at me for a brief second before following the same path Trip had just taken.
I stood in the doorway and watched him slide behind the wheel of his police cruiser and take off. I wanted to shout things at him, throw things at his car, but my arms were heavy. I took a deep breath and closed the door.
My sister came over and asked, “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine.”
“I'm going back upstairs with my nephew. You better fix this before Mama and Grammie come home.”
All could do was stand there as she disappeared up the steps, taking my sanity with her.
Chapter Twenty-one
Trip
I shifted my body around on the small, uncomfortable chair situated in the corner of my partner's hospital room. The fake leather whined under the weight of my body. The hiss of the machine helping Phil breathe was loud and intrusive. I felt like it was mocking me, trying to prove that it could do something I couldn't. I made that chair into my bed as I sat and prayed my partner would open his eyes. I reached up and slid the blinds back, allowing the new day to fill the sterile room.
“You been here all night?”
I looked up and saw Lenny standing in the door. He looked as bad as I felt.
I stood up. “Yeah, I keep staring at him, expecting him to wake up.”
He walked over to the bed. “He will.”
“He better.” I stood to my feet. “What's up? What you doin' here?”
“Forensics called. They came up empty on that shell casing. Heat from the round being fired burned off any print.”
“Damn. I was really hoping that would've given us a solid lead.”
Just then, a tall female doctor walked in; two nurses were on her heels. One of the nurses began to tend to the machines connected to Phil; the other started checking his IV lines and breathing tube.
The thin black lady extended her hand. Her white lab coat was a stark contrast to her beautiful dark chocolate complexion. Her jet-black hair was secured in a neat bun at the base of her head.
“Hello, I'm Dr. Patterson. I operated on your partner.”
I took her cold, scrawny hand in mine and gently shook it. “Is he okay?”
“Yes, he's doing well. The first bullet cut through his right shoulder, slicing through muscle. It was a through-and-through.”
“Okay.”
“The second pierced his lung before exiting his lower back. We were able to stop his internal bleeding and repair the damage. He's stable now.”
Lenny spoke up. “When do you expect him to wake up?”
The doctor looked at Phil, then back to us. “When he wakes up is going to be up to him.”
“But he will wake up, right?” I asked.
She nodded a thin veil of reassurance. “I don't see any reason why not. The breathing tube is more of a precaution than anything. I ordered his breathing tube out today.”
I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders. I eyed the nurses as they finished up and left the room.
“Thank you very much.” I shook her tiny hand again.
“Don't thank me. Your friend is a fighter. He's a very strong man, and he's as healthy as an ox.” She headed toward the door. “He made my job easy.”
I looked at Lenny and smiled. “She's never seen him eat.”
That got a small laugh from Lenny.
I made my way to the door. “I need some air. Call me if anything changes,” I insisted. “I'm going to get something to eat and see if I can get ahead of this.”
Lenny took over my post on the noisy chair, and I set out in search of something to put in my stomach. My first thought was the cafeteria, but I really did need fresh air. I headed for the parking deck.
I drove the streets of downtown Atlanta with the windows halfway down. The crisp early-morning air filled the truck and cleared my head a little. It was almost eight, but my mind was all over the place. I needed to get something to eat and soon. I jumped on I-20 and headed toward my mother's house. I knew that I could get something there and possibly catch a nap before heading down to headquarters. I wasn't gonna stop until I found out who shot Phil. In more ways than one, this case just got personal.
At my mom's I took a shower and changed clothes before settling in over a mountain of eggs, turkey bacon, and grits. I was reading a story in the newspaper about a local cardiologist who was in the middle of a standoff the night before. It caught my attention because the dude, Sean Morris, had seen my pops a couple times in the ER before he died. According to the story, he was in some love triangle ended up taking his own life.
Guess everyone was having issues.
I heard someone come into the kitchen, but I didn't look up from my paper.
“Trinity, can you get me some orange juice?”
“She's in the shower.”
My mother's voice made me look up. “Mama, what are you doing out of bed?”
“I'm not handicapped, boy.”
I swallowed a mouthful of grits. “I know you're not. How's your hip doing?”
“It's better. That doctor Trinity took me too gave me something for the pain. He ordered a bunch of tests too.”
“Good.”
Her eyes were sad when she spoke. “Trinity told me what happened.”
I reached up and secured my locs behind my head before picking up my fork again. “Phil is gonna be fine.”
“I've been praying for him.” She went to the sink and, true to form, began making dishwater. “She also told me about the grave site.”
I stopped eating, but I didn't look at her. I kept my eyes fixed on the food in front of me. “Mama—”
“I'm not gonna fuss. But from the sounds of it, you got a lot of anger inside.”
“Mama, I'm fine.”
She poured me a glass of orange juice and set it in front of me. “No, you're not.”
“What do you want me to do, mama?”
“I want you to let it go. It's time, baby.”
I would never disrespect my mother, but right now she was pissing me off with all this forgive-and-forget bullshit. I just wanted to get full and catch a quick nap before heading out. I didn't come by here to be lectured. I looked up and saw Trinity sneak past the kitchen. She gave me a look that let me know she agreed with my mother. She didn't stop and kept moving toward the living-room.
“Don't you have somewhere to be, you little snitch?” I called to her.
“It's Saturday, grumpy,” she called back.
“Now, don't you go blaming her,” Mama took her seat across from me. “Baby, I'm worried about you. We both are. You're shutting us out. Have been for years.”
“I understand what you're saying, Mama, but I'm not shutting anyone out.”
“Well, I don't know what else to call what you did. It's almost like when we put your dad in the ground, we buried you too.”
I leaned back and let out a sigh. “Come on, Mama. I didn't do anything. I took a job that happened to be in another state. That's all.”
“And I also know that Idalis needs her best friend—now more than ever.”
“Idalis is fine.” I pushed back in my chair and stood up. “Can we drop it, please?”
“I'm scared, baby, that's all. That could be you in that hospital bed.”
“But it's not.” I bent down and kissed her cheek. “I'm going to lie down for a little bit.”
She didn't respond; instead, she busied herself by clearing the table.
I made my way down the hall to the bedroom that I used to call mine. I pushed back the door and it creaked and squealed, yielding to my intrusion. I couldn't help but laugh to myself at how huge I used to think the room was when I was growing up.
The large bed, situated under the window at the far end of the tiny room, had been there from the day I started high school, when it replaced my old bunk beds. The worn wood of the dresser and chest of drawers told all thirty-eight of my years.
I opened the small closet door.
My mother had filled it with extra blankets and sheets, but the ghosts of my sister and me huddled in the corner would always live there.
I closed the door and stretched out on the bed, which strained under the weight of my body. I balled a pillow up and tucked it under my head.
Lying in the bed, I watched the ceiling fan circulate the stale air around the room. I ran through every bit of the case in my head, tried to think of anything I'd missed, anything that didn't make sense, any piece that stood out. Up until now, everything had been done by the book, at least on our end. Phil must've felt really good about the lead to go without me.
That's when it hit me; I sat up on the bed.
Darius!
I kissed my mom and slapped my sister upside her head on my way out; then I bolted out the front door. I needed to get downtown. I didn't know much about Darius, but I was hoping that since he was a logged informant, I could find something in the system that would lead me to him.
 
Back in the office, I sat in front of the twenty-inch flat-screen monitor, scanning the database for anything that might lead me to Darius. The original UC that had linked Phil with the informant had been snatched off the street and put in hiding so I was on my own. I didn't know much about him, but I was hoping to come across something. During my search I became both amazed and frustrated at how many people had given that name to their sons, and even more so at the fact that so many had been in some sort of legal trouble at some point.
After two hours of searching and cross-referencing, I finally got a hit. I scribbled down the address and headed for the elevators.
Agent Roberts passed me in the hall. “What you got, Trip?”
“Going to check out an address. If Lenny needs me, tell him to call my cell.”
“Any word on Phil?”
“He's still hasn't woken up,” I called out as the elevator door closed.
I maneuvered my truck around the bowels of southwest Atlanta. This time of morning everyone who laid claim to the streets was either just getting to bed, or already asleep, resting up for the night shift. I had learned over time that runners who took the early-morning or day shifts weren't exactly a wealth of information. They were more like placeholders, keeping the porch light on, so to speak, for the ones who handled the real weight at night.
The address I had led me to Center Hill, off Bankhead, or rather Donald Lee Hollowell Parkway. After all these years, that name still didn't register. No matter how they packaged it, Bankhead would always be Bankhead.
I pulled up in front of the shabby house that displayed the address from my paper. The run-down property squatted right in the middle of the block and was surrounded by a messy yard. The two corners where the house sat were decorated with guys standing watch.
I could hear whistling popping off in the air, the hood version of a siren. Even at this time of the morning, eyes were watching and runners were alerting everyone that heat was in their midst. I stepped out and made my way through the maze of trash and overturned toys to the front porch.
The rickety screen door squeaked when I pulled it open. I rapped on the door two hard times. When no one answered, I reluctantly pressed the doorbell, in spite of the exposed wires. That must've gotten someone's attention. Shortly afterward, I heard the soft click of locks being released.
A stout dark-skinned woman, dressed in a ratty robe and nightgown, opened the door. Her hair was up in rollers, with a scarf wrapped tightly around the sides of her small head. Her deep-set, glassy eyes and dark lips told her story without her opening her mouth. She looked like a woman who'd just gotten to sleep, only to have me interrupt it with my visit.
“Can I help you?” her tone angry.
I flashed my badge. “I'm looking for Darius Grey.”
“He ain't here.”
“Do you know where he is?” I pushed.
She heaved her huge, braless breasts and let out a heavy sigh. “What is this about?”
“I need to ask him some questions about a shooting that took place a couple nights ago.”
I watched as she fidgeted and adjusted her nightgown. “Well, he not here.”
I looked over her shoulder and scanned her messy living conditions. There were piles of clothes all over the floor, like she had started to wash clothes and suddenly changed her mind. The dirty floor and toys scattered everywhere let me know there was a child close by.
I glanced over my shoulder and took inventory on how quickly the landscape had changed. Corners were now empty, but my eye caught the lookouts in the windows across the street and the house next door.
I reached in my pocket and pulled out one of my cards and held it out for her to take. “If he shows up, tell him to call me.”
She sucked her teeth. “Why? So y'all can just throw him up in jail again? He just got out a couple months ago.”
“Ma'am, I just wanna ask him a few questions. If he hasn't done anything, then there's no need to lock him up, is there?”
She snatched the card out of my hand and slammed the door.

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