She described how she’d woken up when the power went out and then heard the car leave the parking lot before smelling smoke. After she explained her trip next door and stumbling over LaTonya’s body, she detailed their escape outside, only to be shot at by the people in the black sedan and then a man trying to kidnap Jamal before LaTonya’s car exploded.
Wow, listening to herself recall the events made it seem surreal, like a plot she’d read in one of her author’s thrillers, not something that happened in real life—certainly not hers.
Detective Lyons studied the picture from Kenzie’s cell. She looked up and pinned her with an accusing glare. “You live right next door and you didn’t hear the gunshot?”
She winced. That did sound bad. “This is...was my aunt’s condominium. She recently passed away. I’m in town to clear it out to put it on the market.” She glanced over at the blackened rubble and realized she wouldn’t need to list the condo anymore. It was gone, along with the keepsakes she’d set aside to remember Franny. Shaking the thoughts from her head, she continued. “I live in Manhattan and I sleep with a machine to drown out the city sounds. I’ve grown used to loud noises.”
“Kenzie?”
Jamal came up to her looking so sad and lost. She hugged him to her side. Detective Fuller crouched down. “Jamal, I’m sorry about your aunt.” Jamal studied the ground and nodded. “Can I ask you a few questions?”
He hitched a shoulder. “I guess.”
“Do you know who did this?”
He shook his head.
“Has anyone caused you any trouble recently?”
“Bobby Watkins.”
“What did he do?”
“He took the Legos at first break, even though he knew it was my turn.”
Kenzie tried to smile but it wobbled as tears gathered in her eyes. He was so young and innocent. LaTonya had told her about his past and she knew he’d had a rough first few years of life. That he was so loving and gentle was miraculous and she hoped he never changed.
Detective Fuller smiled, too. “That wasn’t nice of Bobby. What about any trouble at home? Was there someone bothering your aunt?”
“If there was, she didn’t tell me.”
“No unexpected visitors or strange phone calls?”
He shook his head.
“Can you tell me what happened tonight? Start at the beginning when you knew there was trouble.”
Kenzie hadn’t had a chance to ask him, so this was new information for her, too. She clutched him tighter to let him know he wasn’t alone.
“I was asleep in my bed. Aunt LaLa woke me up and told me to get inside my hidden room. I could hear someone yelling and banging on the door. Then glass shattered.”
Detective Lyons eyed Kenzie critically again, like she should’ve heard the racket. She just shrugged.
Jamal told them his aunt screamed and then a man came into his room calling his name before tearing it apart. Then he heard the gunshot. Apparently, she could sleep through anything if that didn’t wake her.
“Hidden room?” Detective Fuller posed his question to Kenzie. Though she knew Jamal needed the hideout for safety, she told the detectives his aunt had it constructed as a secret fort, not wanting Jamal to feel embarrassed.
“What about the man who tried to grab you?” Detective Lyons asked. “You said he knew your name. Did you recognize him?”
Jamal shook his head.
“Can you describe him? Height, weight, race, tattoos or scars?”
“No. It was too dark. I didn’t see his face.” He dropped his gaze to the ground. “My eyes were closed.”
“What about you, Ms. Bryant? Can you describe him to a sketch artist?”
“I didn’t see his face, but he was about five ten, medium build. He wore a hoodie so I couldn’t see the color of his hair or his race.”
“Thanks. That’s helpful.”
Kenzie didn’t miss the sarcasm in the woman’s voice. She realized she’d described half the male population of Detroit, but she couldn’t give details she didn’t have.
She glanced up at what was left of the condo and her heart ached. It was almost completely burned to the ground. A total loss. Things could be replaced, but Jamal lost his beloved aunt. She prayed they’d be able to retrieve LaTonya’s body so she could have a proper burial and Jamal could say goodbye.
Another man arrived wearing a suit and even without a police uniform or badge, she recognized the authority in his bearing and steady gaze. Detective Fuller introduced him as the deputy police chief. He wanted to hear the story from her, but Jamal was wearing down. She didn’t want him to have to relive the nightmare again, so Kenzie asked if he could lie down in one of the police cars.
After she settled him in the back seat of Detective Fuller’s car, she noticed a van park close to the action. Two people in hazmat suits headed for the fire chief. They must be the ones who would comb the rubble for LaTonya’s remains.
She retold the story to the deputy police chief. He’d asked dozens of questions and by the time dawn started to lighten the sky, exhaustion weighed down on her until she didn’t think she could stand any longer. The flames had long been extinguished and most of the fire trucks had left. Two stayed behind to monitor the smoke drifting up from the embers, and the van was still there. Either they hadn’t found LaTonya, or it’d been too hot to search.
Pulling her gaze away, she focused on the deputy chief. “We’re tired. Can we come to the station later today to finish answering questions?”
The man took pity on them. “Sure.”
Detective Fuller handed her his card. “I should be there any time in the afternoon.”
She went to retrieve Jamal, but he was already heading her way. “You ready to get out of here?”
“No, we can’t leave,” he insisted. “Declan will be here any minute.”
“You have someone coming for you?” Detective Fuller asked.
Jamal bobbed his head. “My best friend, Declan Elliot.”
“How old is your friend?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Old. Maybe Kenzie’s age.”
Kenzie shot a sardonic look at Jamal. Old?
The detective had the decency to hide his laugh behind his hand. He cleared his throat, but a smile still lingered on his lips. “Where are you staying tonight…er, I guess today? If Mr. Elliot shows up, I’ll send him there after I verify his identity.”
She hadn’t even thought about a place to sleep. They needed to hit a discount store for basic supplies and then grab something to eat, too. “Hang on a second.” She found the number for a chain motel and called for a reservation. After giving Fuller the name of the motel and promising to visit the station later, she loaded Jamal in her rental car and headed for a department store. Kenzie caught her reflection in the doors as they approached and gasped. She beelined for the bathrooms and checked to make sure the women’s room was empty before toting Jamal inside with her to wash the soot off their hands and faces as much as possible. They both reeked of smoke, but that couldn’t be helped.
They sped through the clothing aisles, picking up shirts, pants and underwear for both of them. She didn’t care what they looked like, as long as they fit. She tossed a backpack into the cart and then they raided the toiletry aisles for toothbrushes, toothpaste and other necessities.
Once they were back in the car, she made Jamal sit in the back and buckle up. On the way to the motel, she passed an all-night diner and turned into the deserted lot. She wasn’t hungry, but they needed to eat to keep up their energy.
A bell dinged over the door when they entered. A sign instructed them to seat themselves, so she picked out a booth by the window. There was only one occupied table across the room. The waitress looked bored as she made a pot of coffee. She spotted them and trudged over with a notepad and pen. “What can I get you to drink?”
Jamal ordered orange juice and that sounded good for her scratchy throat. “Same for me.”
Though they visi
ted the restroom in the department store to wipe off the soot, she didn’t use the facilities. The urge hit her, so she said, “I’m going to the bathroom. Pick out anything you want on the menu. I’ll be right back.”
#
Jamal watched Kenzie disappear into the door marked Ladies before he scanned the items on the menu. His stomach felt all squishy, so he wasn’t sure he could eat. Maybe some macaroni and cheese if they would let him order it for breakfast. Even the thought of his favorite food didn’t excite him. Aunt LaLa made the best mac and cheese from scratch. He would sit at the bar in the kitchen and watch so he could make it himself someday when he was old enough to use the stove. He would sneak pieces of Velveeta when she wasn’t looking but she always caught him and then they would laugh as she stole a piece, too.
A scary thought struck. Who would make him dinner now? Who would he live with? The sickly feeling in his stomach intensified. What if he had to go back and live with his mom in the crummy, rat-infested apartment with strange men coming over at all hours of the night? Jamarcus’ friends still lived there. What if, like Jamarcus, they tried to force him to join their gang? How would he be able to resist so much pressure? He didn’t want to be a part of their mean group. They stole things and hurt people.
His heart started to pound. He couldn’t do it. He’d gotten away once. If he got to pick, he wanted to live with Declan. Peyton would probably let him stay with her, but she lived with Noah now. They might not want him getting in their way. Would Declan let him stay with him?
The bench cushion deflated as someone slid into the booth beside him. “Hey, Jamal.” His head whipped to the speaker. “Fancy running into you here, kid. How’s it going?”
Jamal shrank back from the smirking man with a shaved head. He had big, round rings in his ear lobes that stretched them out and his face and neck were covered with tattoos, including an eight and a six beneath his right eye. The Eighty-Sixers. His brother’s old gang. He didn’t know any of their real names, only nicknames. They called this man Boomer.
“What are you doing here?” Jamal’s eyes darted around the empty diner, looking for Kenzie or anyone to help. The people in the booth across the room had left. Where was the waitress? His eyes widened when he recognized the man blocking the door to the ladies’ room with Kenzie inside. Blaze.
Boomer tapped the table in front of him to get his attention. “We came to check on you, little brother. To see how you’re doing after Trigger’s unfortunate passing.” It wasn’t hard to figure out why they’d given Jamarcus that nickname since he’d even tried to shoot his own brother. “Damn, we sure miss him.” He looked sad for a second but then his face brightened. “But we have you to replace him.”
The urge to run was strong. He had to get away from these two men. Boomer just said they wanted him to take his brother’s place in the gang. “I’ve got to go.” He was about to climb under the table to get away when Boomer clutched his arm in a punishing grip.
“Not so fast, you little brat. You’re not getting away that easily this time. You’re coming with me.”
Jamal dug in his heels. “No, I’m not. Let me go.” He struggled against Boomer’s hold, but it did no good. He was too strong and easily hauled him out of the diner. His feet could barely keep up.
He was going to die.
#
Kenzie splashed water over her face. Her eyes were gritty, and her lungs felt heavy from inhaling smoke. They probably should’ve made the trip to the emergency room to be checked out, but she was glad the paramedics didn’t insist. They would have if they thought either she or Jamal needed to go. After a shower and sleep, she’d feel better.
Everything still seemed surreal. Having her aunt’s house burn down, finding her friend’s murdered body and then being shot at and almost incinerated wasn’t something that happened every day. As an editor of mystery fiction, she’d read her share of stories with similar plot lines, never dreaming she’d be smack in the middle of one.
After washing her hands, she tossed the paper towel in the bin and adjusted the messenger bag with her computer over her shoulder. She could’ve left it in the rental car or locked it in the trunk, but she felt safer having it with her. She grabbed the handle to exit, but the door didn’t budge. She tried again but it wouldn’t move. It felt like something had been jammed under the knob.
She pounded on the door. “Hello? Is someone out there? I’m locked inside.”
She hoped the waitress would hear her pleas and rescue her, but no one came. She tried again, knocking harder this time to no avail.
Fear coasted down her spine. The fire wasn’t random. Someone had killed LaTonya and tried to grab Jamal. She clutched the knob and jerked with all her might, but it wouldn’t move. Panic threatened to overwhelm her, but she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “WWSD,” she muttered. What would Storm do?
Her eyes snapped open and she glanced at the window above the sink. It wasn’t large but big enough for her to squeeze through. She climbed onto the counter and gasped when her foot slid in a patch of hand soap, almost sending her tumbling backwards to the black and white linoleum floor. After righting herself, she reached up and jiggled the latch. The window squeaked open and she popped out the screen. Storm would leap effortlessly through the opening, land on her feet and hit the ground running. Kenzie’s exit wasn’t as graceful. She grabbed the edges and boosted herself out. The drop was about eight feet, but there were bushes below to cushion her fall. Without giving herself time to think, she launched out headfirst, using one arm to secure her computer against her side. She twisted in mid-air so that her back hit the bush first. Years of gymnastics as a child had paid off. Her eyes crossed as thousands of tiny pinpricks poked against her skin when she landed in the evergreen, but she ignored the pain. Hopping to her feet, she reached in her bag as she bolted for the car. A quick glance at the diner had her running faster. A bald man was dragging Jamal out of the booth. She popped the lock, opened the door and dove inside to start the car. She backed out and waited for the man to come outside with Jamal, only he wasn’t alone. A red-headed man followed them out. Gunning the accelerator, she headed for the man not clutching Jamal. When he spun around at the sound of her approaching, she slammed on the brakes and whipped her door open, nailing him in the midsection. Total Storm move. The impact sent him hurtling across the pavement. The gun he’d been holding skittered across the ground and his head impacted with the concrete. Lights out. The man with Jamal whirled around at the commotion. Jamal used his distraction to jab a fork into his leg. The man howled in pain and went down on one knee gripping his injured thigh. Jamal raced to the car.
Kenzie jumped out and scooped the gun off the pavement. “Hurry.” She practically tossed Jamal into the passenger seat and scrambled after him. “Belt up.” She slammed the door, shifted into drive and floored the accelerator again to squeal out of the parking lot. After checking to make sure she wasn’t followed, she slowed down. Her hands shook like a sapling in a hurricane. She realized she had a death grip on the gun. She carefully slid it into the compartment on the door. Firearms didn’t scare her. She was licensed and practiced at a range in the city. But there was a huge difference between shooting the daylights out of a paper target and pulling the trigger on a living, breathing human. She wasn’t sure she could do it.
Once her pulse began to slow, she glanced at Jamal. He looked dazed. She reached over and clasped his hand. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah.” Then he smiled. “You were awesome. Man, Blaze went flying like a frisbee. Where did you learn to do that?”
She shrugged. “Instinct.” And police dramas when she had the time to watch television. “And you were the awesome one. How did you think of taking the fork for a weapon?”
“Survival,” he said nonchalantly, and her heart broke for the life he must’ve lived before moving in with his aunt…who was now dead. Oh, Jamal.
She swung into the parking lot of a strip mall and shifted into park. She need
ed to call the police and tell them about the attempted abduction and have them check on the diner personnel in case they’d been harmed. She wanted to believe they’d have helped a small boy being abducted otherwise. She dug her phone from her bag and groaned. The battery was dead. She didn’t have a car charger with her. Phone calls would have to wait until they were at the motel. She placed the bag in the back floorboard and shifted into drive, waiting for the traffic to clear before she turned onto the street.
“You called the man I struck Blaze. Did you recognize them?”
“Yeah, Blaze and Boomer. I don’t know their real names.”
“How do you know them?”
“They’re Eighty-Sixers.”
She glanced at him as she braked at a red light. “What’s an eighty-sixer?”
“My brother’s gang.”
“Those two are gang members?” At his nod of confirmation, she swallowed heavily. It was one thing to take on two random strangers, but a gang was a whole new ballgame she wasn’t equipped to handle. “Do you know what they want?”
“Yeah. Me.”
#
Tears rolled down Luis Gomez’s face as he clutched his damaged leg and moaned in pain. The little punk had nailed him good with the fork. It was currently sticking out of his leg like a harpoon in a whale’s blubber. With a shaking hand, he clutched the shaft and yanked it out, letting out a shriek when the tines parted ways with his flesh. Blood spurted and he slammed a hand over the gash. Nausea churned in his belly and it was all he could do to avoid barfing up his guts. He hoped Blaze had grabbed the kid while he’d been incapacitated.
“You have him, Blaze?” His question was met with silence. He managed to crack one eyelid to see Blaze laid out flat on the pavement like roadkill. No kid in sight. She-it.
He struggled to his feet and lifted his hand from the wound. Lots of blood. He’d be lucky if he didn’t get tetanus or something. The muscles in his leg didn’t want to work properly as he stumbled over to Blaze’s prone form. He kicked at him with his good leg.
“Get up, idiot. We lost the kid.”
Running Scared Page 5
