When Rain Falls (24 page)

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Authors: Tyora M. Moody

BOOK: When Rain Falls
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Chapter Forty-seven
Her emotions were hanging by a thread. For the third time since the salon had closed for the evening, she lost her concentration. Candace grabbed her two employees' paychecks and stuffed both in a Crown of Beauty Salon envelope. With one more look at the computer screen, she decided to save the budget and shut the computer down. The number crunching would have to wait until she was in a better mood. Or until the bills stopped coming, which she knew was wishful thinking. Sorely frustrated from a long day, she pressed her fingers to her temples. With slow, steady circular motions, she willed the lingering headache to go away.
If she left now, she could visit Aunt Maggie before visiting hours ended. From her conversation earlier with Desiree, she knew Judge Coleman wasn't too far down the hall from Maggie's hospital room. The judge had suffered a major heart attack. So much turmoil had poured down around her the past few weeks. It was getting harder and harder to stay encouraged.
God had a plan. No matter the circumstances. He was the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. That was what she held on to, sometimes not even sure why.
A hideous jingle shattered the quietness of the small office. She clutched her chest, still wondering why Daniel had downloaded
that
particular ringtone for her cell phone. It was driving her crazy.
She reached out, but instead of her hand connecting with the phone, she tipped over a soda can. The brown liquid snaked across the papers scattered around the long desk. Candace yelped and shook the papers over the trash can. As she tried to salvage her printouts, to her horror, the soda gravitated to the other side of desk and proceeded to drool on the beige carpet.
The cell phone rang again. She growled. With a fistful of soggy Kleenex tissues, she ran around the desk to stop the dripping. The carpet should survive.
She hoped
. She seemed to be always trying to save something. Candace grabbed the screaming cell phone and flipped it open. “Hello.”
No one answered on the other end.
“Hello. Is anyone there?” Silence. “That's just great. All that trouble for nothing.” She snapped the phone closed.
As fast as she closed it, the phone rang again.
Ready to scream now, she snapped, “Hello?”
“Candace? Are you okay? Where are you? You were supposed to close up shop over an hour ago.”
Blowing out a breath, Candace responded, “I'm going now, Beulah. There's no need for you to check up on me.”
“Well, it gets dark early now. We have a system. No one should be hanging around the salon alone. I could've stayed longer. My sugar bear would've been just fine.”
Candace laughed.
Poor Mr. Harold
. Beulah had the most endearing names for that man. It was really cute. “Don't worry. Hey, did you just call a minute ago?”
“No. Why?”
“Nothing. I will call you as soon as I arrive home.”
Her eyebrows furrowed together. She sifted through the phone's history to see who might have called before Beulah. The previous number displayed on the tiny screen was unknown.
Probably some telemarketer.
Good, she did miss the call.
“Let me just get out of here.” Candace noticed the computer's dark screen. She assessed the clutter of paper on the desk and decided to leave everything alone until tomorrow. Organizing the office was still on her to-do list, somewhere at the bottom. She removed her salon coat, draping it over the back of the chair. On the way out, she turned the lights off and closed the office door.
Candace stood still, looking around the salon. The expansive mirrors on each side created the sophisticated, larger-than-life design she desired. As she walked through the salon in the dark, her beloved mirrors seemed to transform the equipment and furniture into new, alien shapes. She walked to the front and then turned off the fluorescent lights.
Stepping through the salon's entrance, she looked up and down the street. To be sure the door was locked, she jiggled the doorknob. The smell of rain mixed with the aromas from the new restaurant across the street wasn't helping her throbbing head.
She walked faster.
Three cars were in the parking lot, which the salon shared with the doctor's office next door. Candace had continued to beg the city for more adequate lighting.
The door locks clicked on her car after she pressed the keyless remote. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she started thinking that maybe she should go straight home. Her energy level was so low, sitting around in a hospital for the next few hours seemed daunting. She wanted more than anything just to go to sleep early for a change. Just block out all the mess in her life. At least until tomorrow.
While she sat at a red light, she thumped on the steering wheel.
It's too quiet in here
. She turned on the radio. The new CeCe Winans song filled the car. “I'm tired of principalities messing with me... . I'm tired of the devil stealing from me... .”
Candace bopped her head back and forth. That was exactly how she felt. Normal had never seemed to be a part of her life. At least not for long.
How much more did God think she could bear? “I'm taking it back. I'm taking territory... .”
What I want more than anything is peace.
A car's headlights lit up her interior. Candace squinted and tried to view the car through the rearview mirror. The light turned green. She pressed the accelerator but drove slowly.
Maybe Mr. Bright Lights back there will move into the left lane
. Candace coasted along at about thirty miles per hour, ignoring the thirty-five-mile-per-hour speed limit, but the driver remained behind her.
She gunned the accelerator a bit to create some distance from the car. She couldn't tell the model, but it appeared to be an SUV; its color blended into the darkness. As soon as it passed her, she would take note of the license plate. Not that she would do anything with the numbers. It was just something Frank always mentioned in passing.
But the car never passed her.
Fine.
Candace signaled and moved into the left lane. Fear engulfed her body as the vehicle swung in behind her, inching closer than was comfortable to the back of her car.
This is not funny if this is somebody's idea of a prank
.
Who is in that car?
“Help me please, God. I don't understand what is going on. Protect me. For my children's sake, protect me.” She went this way home every single night. Not many drivers traveled this way, most preferring the interstate. There were a few taillights, but they were at least a block away.
She didn't want to lead whoever was in the car behind her to her home. The exit for I-77 was nearby. She gripped the steering wheel and moved back into the right lane. Not bothering to signal, she glided the car down the exit ramp.
The car followed her.
She placed her foot on the accelerator and merged into traffic. Surely, she could lose him or her. Changing lanes, she tried to widen the distance. Way over the speed limit. It wasn't a bad time for a state trooper to show up. In her mirror, she couldn't tell if the SUV was still behind her or not in the sea of headlights. The exit that led to her neighborhood was coming up soon.
Hopefully, I can get back over, and this is all just a figment of my imagination.
At this rate of speed, she would have to slow down in five minutes so she could get back in the far right lane.
With maneuvers she hoped her children would never use, Candace zipped in front of a small car just in time to make the exit.
A shopping center loomed ahead. Maybe finding a well-lit place and getting help would be smart now.
A noise startled her from the passenger seat.
Not the phone again.
Always the one preaching against talking on the phone in a car, she reached for it. “Hello.”
“Candace?”
“Yes.”
“It's Darnell.”
Should she tell him she was being followed? She did just ask God for help. That was fast! Candace glanced in her mirror. Was the car behind her? She couldn't tell, but at least she had more cars around her now.
“Candace, are you okay?”
The yellow light turned red. Candace slammed on the brakes. She stared into the mirror again. “Yes. I ... This is going to sound crazy, but I thought someone was following me.”
“What? Where are you?”
Candace scanned the area behind her one more time. None of the car shapes resembled the one that she thought was following her.
“Candace?” Darnell sounded frantic.
“You know what? I'm just being paranoid. It probably was some kids playing around, out joyriding in their parents' car. I'm fine. Let me get home, and I will call you back.”
“Are you sure?”
The light had turned green. “Yes, yes. Really.” Candace checked the mirror again.
“Call me as soon as you get home. I will be waiting.”
I will be waiting.
It was strange to hear those words come from Darnell's mouth. Sounded like something Frank would say.
Concentrate, Candace.
She was so far away from her normal route, it took her several maneuvers down streets, some of which she'd never driven through, before she arrived in front of her home. She'd finally moved some of Frank's things into the garage, so she had to park the car in the driveway.
Before she exited the car, she adjusted the rearview mirror. Lights approached from the street. She sat very still. Not knowing why, she sank lower in the driver's seat.
Was she losing her mind?
A black SUV came into view and stopped in front of her home.
Candace didn't dare move. There was no way that car could've followed her home. She'd been too careful. What if the person got out? What was she going to do? Now she wished the garage was not so full and she could have parked safely inside. She could call Darnell back.
A panic button of some sort would have been real nice right now. She would have pressed it like her life depended on it. Despite the coolness outside, the car had grown stuffy. She felt like she was suffocating. Soon the SUV continued down the street. Candace snatched the phone out of her purse; she hit a button.
“Hello.”
Candace was breathing so hard, she could barely talk. She stammered, “Daniel, open the door.”
“What, Mom? You forgot your key?” Daniel joked.
“Open the door now, Daniel. I mean now. When I step out of this car, that door better be open. Do you understand?”
“Mom? Are you okay?” Daniel's voice changed, sounding younger.
Candace stepped out of the car, looking around. She hissed at Daniel, “I'm almost at the door.”
“I'm coming.”
She dashed up the walkway, toward the front door. Lights were coming down the street again. Surely, the person wasn't circling. She hurried inside, past her son, and slammed the door closed. Ignoring her son's stare, Candace peeked out the side window. She called out to her son. “Daniel, bring me the cordless.”
He did as he was told. Ignoring her son's questioning stare, Candace grabbed the phone from Daniel and punched in the numbers.
“This is nine-one-one. What's your emergency?”
It struck her hard as she spilled out the address to the operator. Was this how Pamela's last few hours went down before she died? Did someone follow her home and then kill her? Candace's body shook like it hadn't in years. Was the killer coming after her now?
Chapter Forty-eight
Certainly, he wasn't that much of an idiot. It had never occurred to him, Candace could be in danger. After hearing the panic in her voice, Darnell had wondered over and over again what he'd missed. Had Candace unknowingly stumbled upon something? He hadn't mentioned anything to her about Avante, who still was missing. They had an APB out on the man now as a person of interest. All evidence at this point was pretty circumstantial.
Candace did tell him she'd met the man at the art gallery. It was quite possible Avante knew who she was when he saw her. All this still didn't make much sense. Then again, revenge never did. Surely, Avante knew avenging his brother, dead ten years now, wasn't worth all this. It had to stop.
Darnell walked up to the Johnsons' house, which looked very different in the daytime. Last time he showed up here, it was well after midnight and he had young Rachel in tow. Before he rang the doorbell, the door was snatched open. Darnell recognized a familiar face.
“Darnell, honey, we are glad to see you.”
“Aunt Beulah, what are you doing here?” He really wanted to keep this quiet and get protection for Candace and her kids.
“I'm emotional support. After Candace's ordeal last night, we agreed it would be best to close the salon today.”
“I'm glad you ladies thought of that. We would at least like to get some ideas about who might have bothered Candace last night. So, normal routines should be off schedule for now.”
He followed Beulah into the living room. A photo of Frank Johnson on the fireplace mantel caught his eye. Although it was larger than the other photos, he didn't recall seeing it the last time. Or maybe he had. He might have mainly concentrated on the face of Candace, who was also in the photo, standing next to her now deceased husband.
The man's eyes seemed to follow him as he walked across the living room. They arrived in the kitchen, where Candace stood at the sink. She turned. “Darnell. You didn't have to come.”
He observed dark circles under her eyes. She must not have slept at all last night. That seemed to be his problem, as well. Even after she'd called him back to reassure him everything was fine, he'd still heard the earlier panic in her voice over and over again. “I thought I could help. Why don't you talk to me more about this vehicle following you last night?”
He sat down and waited for Candace to finish clearing off the countertop. Last time he was there, he had not been any farther back in the house than the living room. The Johnsons enjoyed a medium-sized kitchen. Pots hung from a rack above the island in the middle. A row of cookbooks was neatly arranged on a counter.
Continuing to stand by the sink, Candace turned toward him. Darnell thought she was staring at him as though she wanted to run into his arms. Instead, she asked, “Detective, would you like anything to drink?” Maybe it was just his wishful thinking to be able to hold her.
He responded, “Just water is fine.”
While Candace walked over to the fridge, Darnell looked on the counter. He frowned and picked up a photo. “Candace, when was this photo taken?”
She passed him a bottle of water and sat down. “That photo was in the envelope I received. Didn't you say the reporter gave you the same set?”
He shook his head. “I don't remember this one.”
“Really? You know what? When Serena came by, she had this photo. She must have kept it out of the envelope.”
A knot started to form in his stomach. It had actually started last night, but it seemed to be growing. “I don't like this. I wish I had known this photo was included.”
“I thought it was strange. It was taken earlier that day. Pamela and I had met for lunch. Do you think the killer was watching her, just planning for later that night?”
Darnell was thinking the same thing, but he didn't want to alarm Candace. Why was this particular photo with Candace included, though? “Did you get a glimpse of the person in the car last night?”
“No. It was too dark. But it was an SUV and probably black or some other dark color.”
He felt Candace's eyes on him as he scribbled notes down. Earlier, he had researched vehicles registered to Avante. The man owned a black Cadillac Escalade, which could easily fit the bill.
“You are in Homicide. Isn't it a little strange for you to come interview me?”
“Not if it's related to a case.”
Her eyes grew wider. “Do you think this might have anything to do with Pamela?” He watched her rub her hands on her pants, like she was trying to wipe off grime. “I have to be honest. The thought crossed my mind.”
“No, no,” he assured her. “Let's just look at the facts. Maybe there is something we missed.” He waited for a response, but only the humming noise from the refrigerator nearby answered. Candace twisted her fingers. She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands.
She shook her head. “I don't know anybody who would want to bother me. But there was something strange at the benefit.”
“Tell me.” His gut churned with discomfort.
“I saw Mitch Harris arguing with, or rather being really angry at, Hillary. I walked over because it looked like he wanted to hit her or something. Anyway, we made eye contact, and I don't know.” Candace remained quiet for a moment. “You are probably going to think I'm crazy.”
“Try me.”
“I had a feeling he was holding something back. When he saw me, he apologized. It was weird.”
Darnell took a swig of water. Mitch Harris wasn't on his priority list right now. But judging from what he knew about Avante, he wondered if the guy had really gone off the deep end. If he was responsible for Frank's death, and if Candace and the children were a target. If that was the case, he needed to come clean.
“Candace, there are some new leads in the case for Pamela that I've been keeping quiet about.”
She gazed at him. “It's about that Avante guy, isn't it? Who is he? You know, something about him is familiar to me. He's also pretty creepy.”
Darnell took a deep breath. This was harder than he'd expected. “The guy is related in some ways to the past. Frank's past.”
“How?”
“Brunson ran into something as he researched. I also started picking up on something, too. We put two and two together. The night Pamela called you, she probably had just met with someone. That person, we suspect, was Avante.”
“He was her client. What does this have to do with Frank, though?”
“You remember the guy Frank was on trial for shooting?”
She didn't respond, but he could see the wheels turning in her head back to that time.
“Avante is that man's younger brother. Now, we don't have any evidence, just theories. It all seemed strange, and it can't be coincidental. We think Avante got into a bit of trouble, which is what has kept him busy these past few years. Somewhere in the equation, the mother passed away and Avante got worse, maybe even blaming Frank and the other cops for his brother's death.”
“Officer Madison and Officer Lloyd both passed away long before Frank. They were natural causes.”
“I know. I've read the files, and that's fortunate for them, but from what I read, Frank was the main one targeted as the shooter. He was represented by Mitch Harris, who eventually had them all acquitted of the charges.”
Candace shook her head. “So, you think this guy waited to kill Frank. But why Pamela ... ?” She closed her eyes.
He didn't want to say anything.
She was a sharp woman.
She opened her eyes, now flooded with tears. “Pamela knew. He was her client, and she somehow found out. That's what she was going to tell me. Isn't it?”
“I'm sorry, Candace. That's the theory. We think he wanted to protect himself, even though there is client-attorney privilege. Somehow he must have realized her connection to you. Especially if he's responsible for this photo.” He picked up the photo of the two friends. “I just don't know what this guy is thinking. We're still looking for him.”
“Still looking for him? How long have you known this? So he's just out there? He can terrorize me?” Candace stood. “Oh, my dear God. I talked to a killer. I felt something wasn't right about him when I saw him at the funeral. He was watching me.” She picked up the photo. “Has he been watching me this whole time? Is my family in danger now?”
Darnell wished he had answers. “I don't know, but we can protect you.” His phone vibrated on his side. “Can you hold on a minute, Candace?” He reached for it. Whatever this was about, it needed to be quick. “Yeah?”
“Jackson, where you at?” Brunson barked on the phone. “We got a body. You got to get over here.”
Oh, great.
“All right, give me the address. I will be over.”
“You've already been here before. The body is at the Harris residence.”

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