The Mancini Saga (Book #1) I.O.U.

by April M. Reign

  “Okay.” she reluctantly opened the screen door, moving slightly to the right, giving Mia just enough space to squeeze through the screen door and the door jam.

  Mia glanced at Miesha. Miesha gritted her teeth at Mia’s sudden improvising away from the plan. They usually went in the house together, or not at all. She gave Mia a be careful look.

  “Where is it?” Mia asked.

  “Go down the hall, it’s the second door on the left. Please, be quick.”

  When Mia walked in, she smelled herbs and spices in the front room of the house. But as she started down the hall, the smell changed from good to rancid. The unrecognizable smell almost made her gag. She walked past the first door, glancing back at Mrs. Bernstein; her back was still to Mia. Mia purposely opened the first door on the left rather than the second.

  The staircase slowly disappeared into the pitch-black basement. She reached for the light switch on the side of the wall, but she could not find one. She backed out of the doorway until she heard a stifled grunt come from below.

  Mia froze. Her heart pounded in her chest as if she was racing a triathlon. Her legs shook. She had to make a decision and make it fast. She put one foot on the next step and descended farther into the darkness below.

  Midway down the stairs, she held her breath. The putrid smell of sweat and urine mixed with body odor and trash got stronger the farther down she went. She gagged, regurgitating dinner from her stomach. She swallowed it back down. Her hand trailed along the wall to help guide her. She closed her eyes momentarily, trying to open her mind to happy thoughts—until her hand hit a hard object. The light switch, she thought.

  She flipped it on. It took a second for her eyes to adjust. In front of her were different sized boxes stuffed with trash and dirty clothes spilling over black trash bags. She slowly continued down the steps to the bottom of the stairs. When her foot stepped down on the basement ground, she felt something gushy under her shoe. She looked down and saw a towel saturated in something red. “Oh, please tell me that’s paint,” she whispered.

  Mia wanted to retreat and run back up stairs. She mentally refused; she had already come this far. When she turned the corner of the basement, she saw a single bulb dangling from the ceiling. Below the light was a tattered bed with a ball of dirty blankets bunched in a pile, and in that bed, something moved.

  Mia jumped backwards, stumbling over boxes and trash. Her heart pounded in her throat, deafening any would-be sounds around her. She could feel herself start to hyperventilate. Horrified, she cautiously moved closer to the bed.

  Chained to the bedposts was a young girl who resembled Julia Myers. They had gagged, drugged, and beat her. She lay in her own excretions. Her sunken eyes and pale skin were an indication of malnutrition. She moaned as she slowly moved her head from side to side.

  Mia ran up the stairs, two at a time. She quickly walked toward the front door where she could see Mrs. Bernstein still talking to Miesha. The moment she made it outside, she leaned over the side of the porch and threw up.

  Miesha went to her side, but immediately saw Marco run around the side of the house, toward the porch, yelling at the top of his lungs. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Behind Marco was Mr. Bernstein, bracing a shotgun between his arm and his side, aiming at Marco’s body. When the old man noticed Miesha and Mia standing on the porch, he turned the shotgun on them, letting Marco and Dean run down the street toward the car.

  “Sir, sir! Please don’t shoot! We are only here to get your sermons!” Miesha blurted quickly.

  Both women had their arms in the air. Miesha fell to her knees, begging him not to shoot. When Mrs. Bernstein closed the front door, turned off the porch light, and disappeared into the house, the women knew they had better think fast or they would be dead.

  “Here for my sermons? Why’d you whores bring two men with you? So they can snoop around my property?!” he yelled, continuing to hold the shotgun at Miesha’s head.

  “We are women, sir; we didn’t want to come out here alone after 10 p.m. surely, you can understand that. You are a man of God; you should realize we needed protection from the bad elements at night in an unfamiliar neighborhood,” Miesha rambled.

  Mr. Bernstein moved closer. “We don’t let strangers in our home, and our congregation is full,” he seethed.

  Mia stood in shock. She had seen Julia desecrated in a basement with sores and abrasions covering her exposed skin. Now she could hear Miesha silently crying. Mia had to find her voice and her courage to help with their plea. Finding the same inner calm she had to use on the compound, Mia wanted to bring his attention toward her.

  For a moment, she could not think clearly. Her mind mixed-up reasoning and facts like a jigsaw puzzle. She had to, mentally, place herself back in the Compound, behind one man’s sadistic rule. What would James want to hear, what would have made him think she were submissive and obedient? She cleared her throat, lowered her chin, and took a deep breath.

  “Sir, we don’t want to die. We came here seeking the word of God through your holiness. We can now see you are the higher power, and we are at your mercy. Please spare us, so we may have the chance to be loyal followers when there is an opening in your congregation.”

  The barrel of the shotgun slowly moved downward, until it pointed harmlessly at the concrete, away from Mia. His demeanor changed.

  What he did not realize was that Marco had called 911. The police were rolling down the street with their lights and sirens off, preparing to move in on the man with the shotgun.

  “We ask that you give us the opportunity, sir.” Mia wrapped her hand around Miesha’s arm.

  He started to respond, but turned around at a sound of movement prowling from behind him. His anxious hand on the shotgun slowly moved the barrel up, while he scanned the yard.

  Mia grabbed Miesha by the shirt and, in an adrenaline-powered jump, pulled Miesha off the side of the porch with her. They both hit the ground hard.

  The word ”Freeze!” was muffled when twelve police officers simultaneously cocked their guns and pointed them at Mr. Bernstein’s head. Scanning the area, Mr. Bernstein assessed the adversary, holding his shotgun firm in his hands. He refused to throw it aside when instructed, and instead he aggressively spouted biblical quotes.

  Mia grabbed Miesha by both arms, “Listen, Julia is in the basement, drugged and chained. Mrs. Bernstein may try to get rid of her if she knows the police are out here. We need to get in the house and get Julia.”

  They both scooted to the side of the house and pulled open the gate of the side yard. The police were still trying to get Mr. Bernstein to stand down. While the officers kept a steady watch on the man with the shotgun, they did not notice the shadows moving toward the backyard.

  Mia walked in front of Miesha. When they stepped foot in the back yard, Mia yelped and jumped back. On a bed of stone lay a sacrificed body. A large kitchen knife stood firm in the man’s chest. The women were horrified.

  They slid by the body, holding in their cries. Mia looked away from the fresh wound still oozing with blood and noticed many trees that grew high, and draped over, barricading the entire backyard. Even from the sky, one could not see the calamities going on in this backyard.

  She grabbed Miesha’s hand and sneaked through the kitchen, grabbing a kitchen knife on their way to the hallway. Mia went downstairs to the basement, but Mrs. Bernstein was not there. Julia was still moaning against the light that Mia had left on earlier.

  They searched the house, maneuvering through with the silence of trained professionals. Upstairs, they found a locked door. Mia knocked. When the door unlocked and slowly opened, the two women saw Mrs. Bernstein in a room full of scared followers. Julia’s boyfriend was one of them, huddled in the corner holding onto several people.

  Mia grabbed Miesha’s hand and cautiously started down the stairs. “Julia is okay for now. The police can get her. I want out of here.”

  “You and me, both,” Miesha whispered, while she st
ayed close to Mia’s side.

  Stepping out in the backyard, the cool air stroked Mia’s nerves. They both ran next to the wall of the home and back to the side gate where they quietly slid through. Mia crouched down, pulling Miesha down with her while they waited for the police to make their move.

  After a menacing standoff with the police, Mr. Bernstein was cuffed and in custody. The officers wasted no time raiding the house, and bringing out people out who needed medical attention. The EMT immediately brought Julia out of the home and provided her with urgent care. Yellow crime-scene tape circled the house while investigators started to probe.

  “I saw a body in the back yard,” Miesha said to a uniformed cop. He nodded and walked quickly that way with another officer.

  Mia pulled her sweater tighter around her body as she watched the events unfold. An officer had asked them to stay put until he could take down their statements and personal information. Just when Mia thought her heart had started beating at a normal pace, she felt it pounce at her chest again when she heard Carlo’s voice.

  Miesha saw Mia tense. “What’s wrong?”

  “Carlo’s here,” she hissed, nervously. “He must have walked right by me in the dark.

  “How do you know?”

  “I can hear him. Miesha, I don’t want him to know I’m here. Please, get me out of here.”

  “You can’t just leave, Mia. The officer asked us to stay, so he could get our statement.”

  “Okay, where is Carlo right now?”

  “He just went toward the back yard. Wait here.” Miesha walked over to the officer and explained that Mia had to get home, that she was unwell, that she had already thrown up next to the porch, and not to use it as evidence in any case they might build. The officer, obviously irritated, agreed to take her statement so she could leave.

  When Mia finished providing detailed information, she hugged Miesha and whispered in her ear. “We did a good thing here. Call me later.”

  “I will, now go before Carlo comes back out here.”

  Mia wrapped her sweater around her body and crossed her arms over her chest, tucking her hands between her underarms for warmth. She dropped her head down, letting her chin rest on her collarbone. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, grateful that everyone on their rescue team had made it through the night safely.

  Miesha watched her best friend walk down the street, knowing she would flag down a cab once she made it to a populated area. Miesha slid her hands in her jacket pocket, trying desperately to stay warm.

  “You’re Mia’s friend. What are you doing here?” Carlo questioned.

  Miesha jumped. “Shit, you scared me. I’m waiting to give my statement.”

  Carlo looked past Miesha toward the woman walking down the street. “Who was that?”

  “I-I don’t know,” Miesha stuttered. “I’m not the babysitter.” She quickly walked away from Carlo and joined Marco and Dean.

  Carlo stared keenly at the disappearing figure. He recognized her walk, the feminine saunter of her sway. His eyebrows furrowed and the veins in his neck protruded. He wanted answers. Carlo picked up his cellular phone and dialed Mia’s home phone number. When she did not answer, he dialed again—and again she did not answer. Frustration clouded his thoughts.

  He took a quick look at his watch, mentally notating, the time was twelve-thirty in the morning. Carlo dialed an officer friend with the intentions of knowing, that the woman walking away from the scene, was Mia.

  “Hey, Arthur, are you in Manhattan area near Central Park right now? Good, can you stake out the Stanwick Apartments for me and call me the minute a woman shows up in Apartment 14? If she doesn’t show up in the next hour, you can take off. Thanks, man.”

  Thirty minutes later, Carlo’s phone rang. Arthur told him that a woman, fitting Mia’s description, had arrived at the apartments and entered number 14.

  Carlo swallowed down his anger. A sandstorm of conflicting emotions started to grab hold of his senses. What was she doing here? Why was she at a crime scene at this hour in the morning? Carlo thrust his hand through his hair while he let his emotions take hold of him.

  Finally, he sighed. Although he was relieved she had made it home, he would not let another secret stand between them. Carlo walked over to the officer that was taking Miesha’s statement and asked to see his clipboard. He thumbed through a couple other statements until he saw Mia’s name. He yanked it out of the notebook and read her account of the evening.

  When he finished reading the statement, he gripped it in his curled fingers. He would not let this go. Mia was going to explain this one to him.

  Chapter Ten

  The cameras and lights were overpowering. Mia was fascinated. She stood next to Carlo in a lovely dress from Fredrick’s Boutique—one of his stunning creations. She wore a blue silk dress that hugged her exceptional figure. The ensemble contained silver embellishments that traveled from one spaghetti strap shoulder down to her petite waist. Elegant sandal-style heels revealed her French-manicured toes.

  Carlo seemed different this evening. He kept her close to him, hardly letting her breathe. If she had to use the restroom, he went with her and waited outside. His actions were on the border of clingy. She enjoyed being the object of his attention, but this much attention was out of character. She sensed that something was wrong.

  She caught Carlo staring at her several times while they stood backstage. Mia watched actors and cast directors running around, getting everything ready for the show. Occasionally, she sensed Carlo’s glare on the side of her face. But when she caught him again, she had to say something.

  “You’ve been acting strange tonight. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m just admiring your beauty,” he smirked.

  “No, there is something else going on in that mind of yours.”

  “I’m trying to figure you out, Mia. I tried to call you last night, but you didn’t answer your phone.”

  She kept her eyes down. She would not lie, but she was not about to tell him the truth on Antonio’s big night.

  “Well?” he asked, tightening his grip around her waist confining her firmly against him.

  “You’re hurting me,” she lied, trying to get some form of control back in her hands.

  “Am I?” he asked, keeping his hand tightly around her waist, not letting her walk away from him. “I’m waiting for you to answer me.”

  “Carlo, you’re being barbaric. Next thing you know, you’re going to drag me by my hair into your cave and show me how to make fire,” she whispered up at him, glancing away when she saw his arrogant smirk.

  “Good idea.”

  She sighed. “This is Antonio’s night. Don’t ruin this night for him; you’re not that selfish. We will talk tomorrow at dinner…like we planned,” she said, putting it off.

  She tilted her face up to look into his narrowed eyes. He could feel her heart beating fast. Without warning, he leaned in and aggressively kissed her lips. He locked her between his arm and his lips, depriving her of movement. He kissed her so passionately that if he let go of her, she would have fallen to the ground.

  When he pulled away, he whispered in her ear, “You have a lot of explaining to do. Once you tell me everything, there will be no more secrets between us.” He loosened his grip.

  Mia felt her stomach flutter. He had been patient with her and her secrets. She knew that she had better be honest at dinner tomorrow, or she would lose him. The last thing she wanted was to lose Carlo. She swallowed hard against that thought.

  Mia had invited Tania to go with them to Antonio’s opening night. She stood off to the side, admiring the charismatic actors and their costumes. Tania had also rummaged through Fredrick’s collection of gowns and found a perfect candy-apple red, floor-length dress. The bodice sparkled with hand-sewn crystals, while a diamond star that sat under her ample bosom gathered the top.

  In the back, where the actors scrambled around, Antonio stood nervously, wringing his hands. He paced back a
nd forth, in a large dressing room, practicing his lines. The other actors were busy getting in costume and having their makeup done. Although he had a small part in the play, he knew he would one-day star in a leading role. His looks and talent captivated all audiences.

  He sat in a high-back chair, having his makeup applied. The makeup artist accentuated his hazel-green eyes and applied color to his already bronze skin. He slicked back his short hair on both sides. Once he had finished with makeup and costume, he searched for his brother.

  Browsing through crowds of people, Antonio’s searching eyes stopped when he saw a woman in an amazing red dress. Her pale, blonde hair, fair skin, and glorious red lips stopped Antonio in his tracks. She looked like an angel of perfection, a woman who knew, without a doubt, how to carry herself with dignity and class. It took him a few seconds to realize that Carlo and Mia were standing next to her. He started walking toward them, trying to pull his eyes from hers—with no success.