Chance

by Carolyn M Bowen

  Sydney’s emotions were in a whirlwind. One moment she was relaxed, with goals to achieve, the next nauseous, temperamental, and subject to tears, even when dealing with her staff. She blamed it on Walker and his taking the deal from hell with the government rather than fighting for his day in court.

  Her office manager and friend, Sarah Levins, suggested there was more to her moods than her recent life events. She said, “Sydney, have you had a pregnancy test? Your symptoms resemble my sister’s when she first became pregnant.”

  Running her fingers through her long, straight, ebony hair, she replied, “No. I’ve not considered that possibility. I’m on the pill.”

  “You may want to get a home pregnancy test to check before seeing your doctor.”

  “Well, that’s one step forward for treating my crazy mood swings. I’ll buy one tonight; but I don’t think that’s the problem.”

  Sydney stopped at the pharmacy on the way home for the tester. She poured a glass of chardonnay to relax after a hectic day at the office. She took a frozen Italian dinner out of the fridge and microwaved it for dinner. She was reminded of Walker’s cooking and could smell his homemade spaghetti sauce as the timer went off on her cardboard dinner.

  She wondered what he’d think if she was pregnant. She’d take the pregnancy test first thing in the morning, when her urine was more concentrated for accurate results, according to the pamphlet included.

  The next morning, she awakened early and remembered the pregnancy test. She unwrapped it and followed the directions, thinking, This shouldn’t be happening. She was on the pill; a strong one, according to her doctor.

  Within minutes of using the tester, she read the results in disbelief: positive. She was pregnant with Walker’s child. And he’d never know—or probably care—now that he had a new life.

  Sydney looked back over her and Walker’s life together. Yes, she could have gotten pregnant at any time. They had lots of sex. But if she put money on it, she’d believe their recent vacation to St. Lucia sealed her fate.

  The whole week was magical, and the love she saw in his eyes was unmatched by anything she’d experienced in her life; not even from her late husband. They had mad, satisfying sex, and even when she felt bruised from their lovemaking, it wasn’t enough. She wanted the surreal experience of their lovemaking to go on forever.

  She was torn about the pregnancy and her options. Should she have this child as an unwed mother to continue the family line? Or, should she wait for Mr. Right and get married, and then have children, in the proper order of doing things according to southern societal customs?

  The door was closed for an abortion. She could spend hard time in prison, according to the new law recently passed in Georgia. And the options were closing in neighboring states. She didn’t know if she could abort Walker’s child, unlike being raped by a thug.

  Plus, just look at her life. It was dangerous. Although she hadn’t hired a personal bodyguard after Walker’s leaving, she had an around-the-clock security force protecting her and her company. How could she bring a child into this lifestyle?

  But, did she have the guts to give up her baby for the greater good and never be able to see it again?

  She started searching online for adoption agencies that would place her child in a loving home. When she started filling out the questions about ethnicity, she decided not to lie about it. They’d probably get a very dark baby. She was of Indian heritage, and Walker was as black as black can be. She probably had some black running through her veins as well.

  Her Native American ancestors prodded through the spring-fed Northwest Florida Rivers with some expanding to the far reaches of the alligator infested everglades before settling. Along the way, blacks and Indians meshed each battling trials inherent to their ethnicity.

  Sydney thought, I’m probably going to deliver the blackest baby in history, and they’re not readily adopted. And, how could she explain this to her whitish colleagues and southern country gentleman father-in-law, in Atlanta? Or did they really need to know?

  She needed to see an OB-GYN and was relieved her former personal physician who thought she was a slut from her previous medical history, wouldn’t be involved. She’d ask Sarah Levins who her sister used during her pregnancy. Perhaps she could do the same if her experience was gratifying.

  Sydney dove into work to take her mind off Walker and the cruel hand the government dealt them. She was frustrated he didn’t get his day in court. Although she couldn’t represent him because of their relationship, there were top-notch attorneys in Atlanta who could. He—they—never had a chance.

  She checked with the Georgia Bar to do some pro bono work, which always made her feel better. She had a foundation set up to cover costs involved in representing those cases. She decided to take the case of Nancy Lynn, a woman in dire straits.

  Nancy Lynn was the mistress of Liu Chang, a member of the Chinese Black Societies. Chang was found dead in his high-rise condo, and Nancy Lynn was the prime suspect.

  Nancy Lynn had a Southern country upbringing. She was an attractive blonde who’d settled in Atlanta after a brief stint trying to launch an acting/modeling career in Hollywood. She’d decided on Atlanta because motion picture studios were relocating there, and more movies were being produced using local talent.

  She was also a Georgia native and former beauty queen, having grown up in a rural farming community within a hundred miles of the bustling culture of metro Atlanta.

  Nancy Lynn was paying her dues with the Boutin Acting Agency to reap better representation down the line. She took mundane assignments, even playing an extra in major movie productions to further her ambitions. She did whatever it took to create a breakthrough for her acting career.

  She’d met Liu Chang at a reception given in a downtown hotel banquet room. Her modeling agency sent her to the event to act as a hostess, basically to just smile and greet the guests. The event was a welcoming of parties who had contributed to a charity drive in the wake of catastrophic damages from a hurricane hitting the neighboring southern state of Florida. Liu Chang’s corporation was a top donor to be recognized at the event.

  She greeted him and noticed the expensive cut of his tailormade suit, fitting every inch of his well-toned body. When their eyes met, she recognized his unabashed interest in her. They chatted briefly before he was seated for dinner.

  Upon leaving, he stopped to say goodbye and left a business card. He asked if she’d like to meet him for a drink in the hotel bar and she said yes. Their relationship developed from there. She moved into his condo and travelled with him except when he went back to Beijing, where he had family.

  She was aware he was married and had a son. He’d told her it wasn’t unusual for Chinese men to have a mistress; many had more than one. The powerful and elite men in power were expected to have their dalliances. However, it would raise suspicion if she accompanied him home. Foreigners were not usually welcomed by his colleagues, not to mention his family.

  He provided Nancy Lynn with a robust amount of money for her spending on clothes and accessories. She had multiple charge cards with no limits for her shopping pleasure. However, all her cards were frozen upon his death. She figured it was the Chinese mafia’s doing, for he’d never leave her homeless and without funds to provide for her care. The detectives investigating her case seemed unlikely to restrict her financing, not knowing whether she was entitled to it, regardless of the source.

  On the surface, Liu Chang’s banking technology business looked legitimate. Even she wouldn’t have known it wasn’t, if he hadn’t told her in one of their private moments. She had no doubt the detectives from GBI became aware of the corporate structure while investigating his death.

  Pinpointing her as the number one suspect was a ridiculous assumption. She had no motive; everything was taken away from her almost immediately after his death.

  With the lack
of suspects, she was surprised she wasn’t in jail pending trial. Obviously, they didn’t have solid evidence against her now. Lt. Thomason did tell her not to leave town until their investigation was over.

  Out on the streets, with no money, she had little choice but to ask for legal aid. When Sydney Jones’s law firm agreed to represent her, she felt better for the first time since Liu Chang’s death.

  Now she had to tell her story, knowing harlot was an accurate description for herself.

  She was surprised when Sydney Jones herself agreed to her request. An attorney in her firm trying to make a name for himself was what she expected.

  Nancy Lynn met Sydney at her office. Sydney eased into conversation with her and noted she was well-spoken and had learned some Mandarin, which she spoke when frustrated. Nancy Lynn was smart. Sydney wondered how she ended up prostituting herself to a member of the Chinese mafia.

  Sydney had the investigative report from the GBI stating the role her client, Nancy Lynn, was suspected in playing in this murder. The evidence against her looked circumstantial to Sydney’s trained eye. She was hoping to have any charges, if pressed against her, dismissed for lack of evidence.

  The case centered on Nancy Lynn’s fingerprints being present on the glass he was supposedly drinking from when he collapsed from poisoning. Of course, her fingerprints would be all over the place, and it was likely she handed the glass to him, as he was accustomed to being served.

  The DNA evidence was flimsy at best. Nancy Lynn lived with Liu Chang in his condo. In Sydney’s opinion, the only reason she was a suspect was to take the heat off investigating a member of the mainland Chinese criminal group commonly known as Chinese black societies. By arresting Nancy Lynn for murder, the mega corporation could continue their business while unknowingly being investigated by the GBI. A serious injustice to her client.

  She would run her proposition by Lt. Thomason, her friend, to see if she was correct. If they needed time, perhaps she could help them in return for not formalizing charges against Nancy Lynn for his murder. Meanwhile, she would continue collaborating with her client to make a case.

  Sydney comforted Nancy Lynn with the knowledge she’d be the lead on her case should she be charged and, in the interim, have a private investigator discreetly reviewing the evidence. Sydney handed her a business card and told her to call if she remembered anything important to their investigation.

  Nancy Lynn had big dreams. She had pushed to make them a reality. She failed. The possibilities of acting in a first-tier movie was a difficult role to land. Perhaps, after clearing her name as a suspect she would make a phone call to a client and movie executive who might help her.

  The headline news delivered the story about Nancy Lynn being a suspect in the murder of Liu Chang. The photo they ran with the story was a good headshot of the actress. They probably downloaded it from her website to make the timeline of the news cycle.

  Sydney was busy sorting through messages about the case when her admin announced an anonymous call concerning the case. “Put it through,” she said.

  Sydney listened as the caller asked that she meet downtown at 8:00 p.m. near the Ferris wheel. She reluctantly agreed when the caller said it could mean life or death for Nancy Lynn. She knew better than take an appointment from an unknown caller. She’d learned from Walker not to place herself in harm’s way without backup. Throwing caution to the wind, she quickly mapped the quickest way to get there on her phone and noted a parking garage where she could park.

  She waited around in the office until time for the meeting. She reviewed the cases in motion provided by her office manager to make sure all were on track. She was well pleased with the lawyers who had joined her firm. They were all go-getters.

  With just enough time to get to the meeting, she left the office garage and motored to the location. On arriving, she alarmed her Porsche and walked across the street. As she neared the car with flashing lights, the streetlights lit the path. She could see the driver of the automobile waving her over to his vehicle and cautiously proceeded toward him.

  Within steps of being at the driver’s downed window, she saw the glimmer of a chrome-plated pistol aimed directly at her. He fired and the bullet buzzed by her sounding like an angry bee. Without thinking, she withdrew her Glock and fired. He slumped over the steering wheel.

  She hurriedly reached through the driver’s window to check the pulse on his neck. He was dead. She decided to not stay around to find out more about him. Walker had taught her to flee from suspicious sites. He may have someone following him or a backup somewhere nearby.

  She quickened her pace, just short of running, to her car. She immediately locked her car doors and phoned Lt. Thomason of the GBI to tell him what happened. She saw no bystanders on the semi dark street to collaborate her story; and was uncomfortable staying at the crime scene given she was setup. She started her car and eased out of the parking garage toward home.

  She knew Thomason would come by her townhome with the lowdown after investigating. Hopefully, he would congratulate her for a clean shot and being smart enough to leave the scene to avoid being shot at again. She didn’t need to be arrested tonight. From their previous meetings, he knew she would defend herself. And, that’s exactly what she did tonight.

  Tonight’s setup made her think there was more about Nancy Lynn’s case than immediately met the eye. Why would anyone want to kill her attorney?

  She had kept keen notes on the movement of the investigation, thanks to Lt. Thomason. She expected a news update disclaiming Nancy Lynn as a suspect as soon as GBI had the real killer. Now she was left wondering if others were coming after her, and if she should warn Nancy Lynn to take precautions, for she might be in danger also.

  Lt. Thomason rang the doorbell, punctual as always after some extraordinary event relating to her. She welcomed him in. “Sydney, what have you gone and got yourself involved in now?” he asked.

  “I was meeting an informant about Nancy Lynn’s case.”

  “Well, we both know how that turned out—he’s dead.”

  “I had no choice; it was him or me.”

  “You were right about that. We found the gun he dropped when you shot him.”

  “Who is he, and why would he want to kill me?”

  “He’s from mainland China, and not associated with the Triad. You were lucky to see his pistol on the semi-dark street. I told you to steer clear until we finalized our investigation. I can’t protect you from the hoodlums you take appointments with outside your office. By the way, have you heard anything from Walker? You really need a bodyguard if you want to continue your clandestine activities.”

  “Walker is as dead as my late husband, as far as I’m concerned. I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing. I do thank you for your concern and will be more open should anyone contact me about this case.”

  “It’ll be a first, but I’m holding you to it. You have no idea who you’re messing with. They’re dangerous, with the danger underlined. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Then, goodnight!”

  Sydney was glad to see him leave. She was afraid she’d be handcuffed and taken off to jail. She went to the fridge and pulled a soda from the shelf and poured a glass. She sipped, trying to relax, thinking about happier times and places. Walker always came to mind.

  She touched her stomach and wished he knew they were expecting a child. With or without him, she’d raise his offspring. Ever since she’d felt the baby move inside her stomach, she’d known she couldn’t place her child up for adoption.

  Although she knew rumors were flying around the office about her and her sex life, it made no difference. She knew what they had was real—even if for a short time.

  The gossipmongers upped their theories about her pregnancy, with the most elaborate being she’d unfrozen sperm from her late husband and had it implanted. R
ay died young, and they had agreed not to have children. He’d known early in life he was a carrier for a disease he’d inherited from his mother’s family genes.

  Sydney went upstairs to her bedroom and took a leisurely bath in her claw-footed tub, a find of her mother’s when she was decorating the townhome. She always felt safe and secure knowing her mother had chosen the tub. She just wished her mom would have had more time to enjoy it herself before the car accident that took her parents’ lives.

  Sydney slept soundly through the night. She awakened in the morning feeling ready to conquer the world. She went to the bathroom and when she opened the door, she saw a man around six feet tall, with wet hair, in his undershorts.

  She screamed as she slammed the door shut and ran for the phone, “What are you doing here? I’m calling the cops!”

  “No, I’m not going to harm you!” he called as he opened the door. “Please don’t call the police. I’ll be gone in two minutes.”

  She remembered leaving her purse with her handgun downstairs on the front entry table as she frantically dialed Lt. Thomason’s number. He answered and said an agent would respond quickly and to go somewhere in her home and lock the door until they arrived.

  The intruder was long gone before GBI showed up. When an agent arrived, they checked her security system and it was disarmed. Shit, she’d been hacked. Were the Chinese behind this too?

  She called Lt. Thomason and thanked him for the quick response and her theories about why her security system wasn’t working. He agreed and reminded her to lay low until their investigation was complete.