When Rain Falls (23 page)

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Authors: Tyora M. Moody

BOOK: When Rain Falls
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Chapter Forty-five
More than anything, Darnell wanted to rip off the tux and continue his hunt for Avante Lafayette. The man had found a way to conveniently disappear from the city without a trace. There were no records of the man hopping a plane anywhere, nor had he used a credit card in recent days so they could trace his whereabouts. Forty-eight hours wasted looking for a suspect he could have arrested only a week ago.
At least they had enough probable cause to convince the judge to issue search warrants.
They would get Avante.
He squeezed his hand into a fist. It took him a moment to realize he had crumbled the folded napkin in his hand. All the other napkins on the table were folded in some triangular formation.
Darnell's eyes roamed the Victory Gospel gym. The sports facility was barely recognizable. Round tables covered with burgundy table cloths had been set up around the room. It appeared most of the scholarship gala attendees had arrived. Darnell tugged on his bow tie. This particular affair required him to wear a tux for the first time since his own wedding years ago. That was one memory he wanted to stay stashed away.
Truly, he wanted the best for his ex-wife. If it wasn't for him, they might still be together. Then again, Darnell couldn't help that the profession he'd chosen didn't fit with her standards. His life was far from
Miami Vice
or
CSI
. Nothing glamorous about dealing with dead people or murderers.
He sat back and glanced over at the door.
Ah, man, could this get any worse?
He shouldn't have come so early. Judge Coleman and Desiree Coleman appeared in the doorway. The last thing he needed was to have a run-in with the judge. While the couple greeted several people, Darnell turned his chair in the opposite direction. Maybe they wouldn't notice him.
Now facing the stage, Darnell caught a glimpse of another couple. Mitch and Yvonne Harris. Would be nice to avoid them, too. For now. He wasn't ready to admit his gut was wrong about them. Even though suspicions were stacked more against the elusive owner of the Lafayette Art Gallery right now, Darnell wasn't ready to let Yvonne off the hook.
She'd paid someone to take those photos. He'd gone back to study the package of photos. Anyone these days could grab a digital camera and snap away. The oddity about the photos from the very beginning was how professional they looked, almost as if the photographer had taken great care in capturing details.
“Here you are. These are your seats right here.” One of the hostesses appeared in Darnell's peripheral vision. He'd counted eight seats earlier, so he knew he would have guests. Darnell pasted a smile on his face to greet his tablemates. His smile stretched wider. God must have been listening to him.
Candace stood before him wearing a scooped-neck black dress with a diamond drop necklace. The jewelry sparkled next to her skin. He couldn't help but notice how the dress stopped right above her calves.
Nice legs!
He really needed to stop doing that. But what else was a leg man to do?
“Hello, Detective Jackson. It's good to see you.” Candace beamed.
Darnell took his eyes off Candace long enough to notice the two young people with her. The Sunday dinner at Aunt Beulah's hadn't allowed much time for him to talk to either teen. Daniel resembled his mother. His black suit was accessorized with a red bow tie. Behind the stylish black frames, the boy exuded intelligence. Rachel was a beauty, like her mom. Probably looked more like Frank. She'd obviously inherited her father's height. He didn't notice until now how much Rachel towered over her mother's frame. Quite a stunning girl.
Frank Johnson had a beautiful family. It was a shame he wasn't here in the flesh. Sounded like a really cool guy to have known.
Despite all that he'd shared with Candace about the investigation, for the past two days he couldn't bring himself to mention the new information. As soon as he could get Avante in custody, he wanted to be the one to talk to her.
He stood and pulled out chairs. Candace's smile took his breath away for a moment, making him forget all about the unpleasantness of the case.
“Thank you, Detective Jackson.” Candace searched his face with her eyes before sitting down in the chair he had pulled out for her.
Overcome with the electric current that flowed between him and Candace, Darnell responded in a low tone, “My pleasure.”
He walked over to pull out Rachel's chair. The girl gave him an up-and-down glance before sitting. She murmured thanks like a typical teenager. Darnell deduced that the girl didn't want to be at the banquet. At her age, she probably preferred being in her room or with friends. With the trouble he'd caught her in, he wouldn't be surprised if this was her first outing other than school.
A quiet awkwardness remained over the table for a few minutes. He asked, “So, Rachel, how's basketball?”
Rachel wiggled in her seat instead of responding.
Candace answered for her daughter. “The coach is still on the fence about Rachel's little incident.”
He watched Rachel cringe.
Way to go, Darnell.
“I'm sorry. I didn't know.” He reached for his malformed napkin and unfolded it.
“Mom, you don't have to tell everybody.” Rachel grabbed the cloth napkin in front of her and wrung it with her hands, as though she was squeezing some liquid out of it.
Darnell tried to hide his smile. Poor napkins didn't have a chance around frustrated people.
“Candace,” a feminine voice called from behind their table.
Candace turned around, and her face lit up. “Hillary.”
Darnell watched as the two women hugged. He noticed Candace seemed to know Hillary Green very well.
“Why don't you sit with us?”
Hillary shifted her eyes toward him.
“I don't want to intrude.”
“It's not a problem. Detective Jackson won't bite. Will you?” Candace winked at him.
She really was beautiful in that dress. If they weren't in a crowded gym, Darnell might have lost all his senses and reached over to hug her close. “Sure. Join us.”
With some reluctance, Hillary sat down. “Good to see you, Detective. You're not on duty tonight?”
“Good to see you again, Ms. Green. I'm always on call in some form or fashion.”
“Oh, I guess you still need to put in work on ... the case.”
Now wasn't the time to talk about the case, not with Candace and her children staring at him across the table. He tugged on his bow tie, as though the fabric wanted to strangle him. Once again he felt a pang of guilt for not sharing the updates on the case with Candace. He'd really gone overboard, sharing far too much with her. Knowing she would investigate on her own, he thought passing her information would curb her appetite for justice.
Now he wondered if she would be even more devastated. He cleared his throat. Felt like a rock had lodged its way into his air pipes. “We're still working on some leads. By the way, have you been back to the art gallery lately? I noticed it was closed yesterday.”
Hillary's smile faltered. “I have not been there during lunch in a few days.”
“Oh, so you haven't seen Avante?” What was he doing? He didn't need to ask these questions now. Still, that day in the art gallery he'd sensed a relationship between Hillary and Avante. The woman had scolded the young man in a matronly way. She might hold a clue to his whereabouts.
Candace interjected, “Avante owns the art gallery? I met him. Interesting man.”
That surprised Darnell, but then again, it didn't. Candace had investigative skills in her bones. “I didn't know you went to the gallery.”
“Sorry, I did forget to mention that to you.” She did at least look sheepish. “I can't say I really liked his paintings.”
Darnell raised an eyebrow. Glad he wasn't the only one not impressed with Avante's skills with a paintbrush. “I thought about going back to check out his exhibit.”
Candace added, “I did like the photography.”
Hillary asked, “Really, what did you like about it?”
“I'm not sure. Avante came up to me while I was looking at them. He told me many were shot in New Orleans. I'm surprised at how many people I've met right here in Charlotte who were displaced by Hurricane Katrina.”
He didn't want to cut her off, but he had to know. “Candace, when did you talk to him?”
Her eyes questioned him. “This past Monday.”
So, the man was in town up until four days ago. What had sent him in hiding? No more talking about the case.
“Is this where I'm sitting?”
You have got to be kidding.
Darnell's temperature rose at least one to two degrees. An image of a cartoon in which the character's heart beat a few feet from its chest ... That was how obvious he felt right now as his heart raced.
Serena sashayed around the table, choosing a seat next to Hillary and across from Darnell. The media had been invited to this event, but how did she choose this table out of a sea of available seats? Only she knew.
Serena purred, “What a pleasure seeing you here, Mr. Hollywood.” Her eyes lingered over Darnell's face. Dressed in a clingy red dress that couldn't be considered appropriate for church at all, the woman was gorgeous, but she didn't compare to Candace. Under the table he clenched his hands into fists as Serena pulled out the chair and sat. Never once did her eyes leave his face.
No matter how many nights he pondered the mysteries of his life, he could never figure out why he attracted the wrong women. Especially women like Serena. His poor mama, Dorothy Jackson, had always warned him looks weren't everything. Like with a lot of things, he should have listened to her.
He watched Serena eyeballing Candace. She was not quite as sly as she would have liked to be. Darnell sensed the reporter's wheels were turning in her head.
Whoa. She thinks Candace is with me.
Maybe she would get up and leave the table if he ignored her. Darnell turned his attention to Candace, only to have his heart jolt as he looked into her eyes. His intentions were to make Serena jealous, but an expression he hadn't recognized before flickered in Candace's eyes before she turned away from him.
If he didn't know better, he would think that Candace seemed just as unhappy as he was to have Serena sitting with them.
Chapter Forty-six
Stop looking at him
. Candace directed her eyes to the stage. She had no business being infatuated. Goodness, she hoped neither Daniel nor Rachel had caught the exchange. Soon she found her eyes back on Darnell again. He was a good-looking man, no doubt. When he was a cop out in L.A., some of Hollywood must have rubbed off on him.
Mr. Hollywood, indeed
. He was not for her.
She'd felt so comfortable talking to him, though. Kind of like when she first met Frank. Candace dropped her eyes to his shoulders. The man certainly wore that tux with finesse. In many ways, Detective Jackson reminded her of Frank. Maybe this was all about missing Frank.
Nobody could replace her Frank.
Her eyes watered as her stomach churned. She couldn't do this. Not now. Candace glanced over at her children, observing each of their faces. Daniel seemed interested in Yvonne's speech, but she was sure he was probably thinking of some video game or something. Rachel seemed fascinated by her fingernails, which were painted for a change. All that time in her room, maybe her daughter would start looking like a girl. Candace was real proud at how pretty Rachel looked tonight. She and Frank had some good-looking spawn.
Laughter exploded all around the room. Detective Jackson seemed pretty tickled. His head was thrown back as he gave a deep, profound laugh.
Candace missed whatever joke Yvonne had told, and really didn't care. After her run-in with the woman earlier this week, she simply wanted this whole process over with. Hopefully, next year, if Desiree wanted to continue the tradition, they could do something separate from this event.
What she really wanted was to talk to Darnell, but there were too many sensitive ears at the table. She could have been reading too much into his sudden interest in Avante Lafayette, but it sounded like he was looking in another direction for a suspect. That struck terror in her. She remembered the way he had stared at her.
Could Avante have killed Pamela? But for what reason? All charges had been dropped against the man.
Why hadn't Darnell mentioned it to her? Not that it was necessary. She didn't want to admit it, but she'd missed his updates and requests for her opinion the past few days.
Or more like she'd missed him.
Yvonne's shrill voice cut through her drifting thoughts. “Before we get started, we want to ask Reverend Jonathan Freeman to come up to bless the food.” Candace bowed her head, and as Reverend Freeman's smooth voice gave words of thanks, she thanked God in her heart. Thanked him for her children and for keeping her during all those times she thought she would fly apart into a million pieces. After the food was blessed, servers dressed in black and white pushed carts out of four doors along one wall.
Hillary and Serena chattered on and off. Darnell seemed to be observing people at the other table. Once again she wished she could ask him questions. It almost seemed like he was avoiding her. Why? Did he find out something she should know about?
A server appeared at their table, quietly disbursing the covered dishes. As she sliced into her roasted chicken breast, she snuck a glance at the detective again. Darnell seemed awfully interested in Serena, who was looking back at him. They had the nerve to be flirting with each other.
It shouldn't matter who Darnell was interested in. He was single and available.
She had somehow reverted to her daughter's age.
All goo-goo eyes over some man.
It had been a long time since Candace had experienced these emotions, and they'd cropped up at the strangest time in her life.
Frustrated, she sawed into the meat. With one motion, she lost her grip on the knife, and it flew from her hand, bumping into Darnell's water glass. A loud clank caused all heads at the table to turn to her. Mortified, she mumbled, “Sorry,” and reached for the knife.
Her hand brushed against Darnell, who already had his hand on the utensil. “Better be careful. You can stab somebody with this, you know.” Darnell handed her the knife, not bothering to hide that boyish smile of his.
Boy, did she feel like an idiot now. Instead of watching Darnell and Serena, she should have been enjoying her food. She gripped the knife and fork more firmly. It could've been her flying utensils, but she still felt eyes on her.
Candace looked up and met Serena's intense eyes. If there was any hint that something was going on between Darnell and Serena, this sealed the deal. Well, there wasn't anything Serena needed to worry about. She decided to start a conversation. “Serena, do you attend Victory Gospel, too?” The woman brushed the hair off of her shoulders. The stylist in Candace noticed the ends had been recently trimmed and the hair had a shiny bounce to it.
Serena answered, “A few times. There seems to be so many people who go to megachurches like Victory Gospel. This place must take in a lot of money. Doesn't that bother you to have a membership into the thousands?”
Candace wasn't surprised by the response, but she was weary of her journalistic questions. It would be nice if the woman could just have a simple conversation. She responded, “Sometimes.”
Serena leaned in closer over the table with a smirk and asked, “Why do you say ‘sometimes'?”
Candace had to be careful about what she said in front of this woman, even if it was a harmless conversation. Talking about faith or politics could get a person in trouble.
“Well, growing up, I went to a much smaller church, where everyone knew your name, including the pastor. Sometimes it would be nice to know who you are sitting next to on the pew, but it's not always possible.”
“So are these megachurches not as effective?”
Candace continued, “No, I wouldn't say that. I think my children here ...” She gestured toward Rachel and Daniel. “They probably enjoy the upbeat atmosphere and excitement found at Victory.”
Serena crossed her arms. “You have a point. I remember being bored in church myself. You have beautiful children, Candace. I'm sure with all that you've been through, Darnell has gone above and beyond to help you.”
Candace glanced over at Darnell. He looked like he'd swallowed something sour.
Where is this woman getting all this from?
Had Darnell been talking to the reporter about the case, too? And had he been telling her about the poor widow Candace, now without her best friend?
Okay, she needed self-control right now.
Lord, please help me.
Now she knew her daughter wasn't the only one with anger management issues. She was trying to be friendly to this woman. There was nothing she wanted from Darnell, uh, Detective Jackson, other than for him to find Pamela's killer.
A scream pierced her eardrums and silenced the room chatter.
“Somebody help!”
People stood all around the gym, stretching to see the commotion at a certain table. Serena popped up, followed behind by Darnell, hurrying over to where a crowd began to congregate.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please have a seat. We have a little bit of an emergency, but everything is fine.” Yvonne returned to the stage. Candace saw fear all over the older woman's face, aging her by the second.
Rachel whirled around. “Mom, what's going on?”
Frowning, Candace shook her head. “I don't know. Daniel—”
Too late. Daniel had moved from sitting to standing on his tiptoes on the chair. “Mom, it's Pamela's dad. He's on the floor.”
Candace's heart fell.
Judge Coleman.
She needed to get to Desiree. Years ago, Pamela had shared information concerning her dad's bad heart.
“Daniel, get down from there. Rachel, let's go.” Candace weaved her way through the crowd. Up ahead, people were parting like the Red Sea as two paramedics rushed through with a stretcher. On one side, she could see Darnell holding his arm out to keep people back from Judge Coleman. The man had his hand over his heart but lay very still on the floor. Desiree was on her knees beside her husband.
Candace realized she would have to follow them to the ER. There was no way she could get through the crowd.
She spun around and then stopped. Who was Mitch Harris so furious with? His mentor was deathly ill not too far from him. The lawyer's bulging eyes and stiff neck alarmed Candace. Oblivious to the crowd around her, she took a few steps to get a better look. Hillary stood clutching the top of her dress as she peered up at her employer. The woman flinched, as though she expected Mitch would strike her.
Not thinking, Candace ran over. “Hillary, are you all right?” She stared at Mitch. “What are you doing, Mitch? Can't you see Judge Coleman has taken ill?”
Mitch broke the stare. With his eyes downward, he moved past her, muttering, “I'm sorry.”
Sorry about what?
What did he mean? Candace turned back around to check on Hillary, but the woman was gone.

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