Real Love 3 (Hungry Hearts)

by H. H. Fowler

  “You don’t despise me,” Yasmine countered. “You love me…you need a woman like me in your life to make you feel alive. Without me, that little lion between your legs would have never known what it was capable of doing. I was your first and you know what they say about your first.”

  “Why the hell am I even wasting my time entertaining your nonsense? You’re a has-been, a washed-up piece of trash, looking to score your next victim. Leave me and my family alone. Because I can’t promise that I will be this civil if I see your face again.” Kevin took his take-out order from the Chinese waiter and turned on his heel. “Get a life, Yasmine.”

  She felt her cell phone vibrating in her hand, but because she didn’t know when she would have the opportunity to see Kevin again, she ignored it for the moment. “Where can I find you?” she yelled, “because we are not done talking. Kevin, did you hear me? This conversation is far from over!”

  Kevin kept walking without looking back. A film of tears dampened Yasmine’s eyelids, as she watched her future and the only man who’d ever meant anything to her, disappear through the exit. Now how in the world was she going to pull herself out of this emotional rut without Kevin? It was one of the main reasons why she was in Tampa – to win back Kevin’s heart. But it was obvious he didn’t want anything to do with her. Or had she hurt him that badly that she had forever ruined their chances of getting back together? Her sad thoughts soon turned her attention to Levi’s text.

  “Are you going to answer my question or am I wasting my time with you?” he’d typed.

  She responded, “A guy just called me a washed-up piece of trash, a has-been looking to score my next victim. Wow…I feel so low right now, I could kill myself.”

  A long pause ensued before Levi responded.

  “Killing yourself is not the answer. It viciously steals away the prospects of what could turn out to be a bright future. Besides, you’re carrying a baby and you are now responsible for its life. But that is another discussion for another time. However, I do want to say how sorry I am that you had to endure the words of that fool – you are not a washed-up piece of trash and whatever else he called you…though I’m also guilty of misjudging you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I initially found out that you’d falsely accused Drake of raping you, I thought you were so evil and calculating. But then I thought about my own actions, of how I tried to destroy the relationship between my best friend and his wife. I was stunned to discover how similar my impetuses were to yours.”

  “I don’t know what impetuses mean.”

  “Sorry…my drives, what motivated me to do what I did,” Levi tried to clarify. “I think it all goes back to one thing.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Our hearts are hungry for love, but it is not being reciprocated, especially by those who are the objects of our affection. So we do a lot silly things to get their attention, only to have it blow up in our faces. Quite a miserable existence, I must say.”

  “Okay, Mr. Shakespeare, quick question: Why do you assume that I’m in love with anyone?”

  “Before I answer your question, tell me more about this guy you mentioned. I have a feeling you’re holding back.”

  “I want to talk about something else.”

  “Nope. You told me to ask you anything and you would tell me.”

  Yasmine wiped her tears with the back of her hand, suddenly not wanting to order anything from the Chinese menu. “He was the man I was supposed to marry.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing. He moved to the United States and I was left in the hands of my abusive stepfather. I hadn’t seen this man in many years.”

  “Do you still love him?” Levi questioned.

  “Yes, very much. And do you still love her?”

  “Who?”

  “The wife of your best friend.”

  “Loving her isn’t enough. I’m obsessed with everything that involves her. I don’t know if I would ever have the strength to let her out of my heart.”

  “Wow…that’s deep and sad...”

  “I know,” Levi concluded. “And it frightens the heck out of me.”

  Chapter Ten

  Devin’s Cay Hospital – Still Sunday Night – 8:11 p.m.

  Though no one lost their life while trying to escape the blaze at El Shaddai Ministries, Mitchell was still deeply troubled over the incident. In fact, he was astounded to know that there were such pyromaniacs in Devin’s Cay, deemed so deadly that it had prompted an island-wide search for their arrest. A fire that could have roasted four hundred people alive was not something to be taken lightly. So while most of the investigative units took to the streets, Mitchell and a small team made a brief diversion to the hospital to see if they could gather information from some of the victims. For Mitchell, the ‘why’ behind the incident wasn’t as important as who’d sent those bastards to execute such a heartless act of violence.

  Mitchell had his suspicions. Ever since Dewey made that menacing remark in the interrogation room, Mitchell was more than ready to believe that Dewey had had a hand in starting that fire. The man was envious of Drake and Drake’s favorable rise to power as the next bishop. Dewey had done everything in his power to destroy Drake’s character and his chances at leadership. So Dewey certainly had motive. However, the real question that Mitchell needed to answer was: How did Dewey get the upper hand when he had been detained for a week behind bars without communication to the outside world? Had Dewey planned this all beforehand? Did he anticipate Yasmine going to the police? Some things made sense, some things didn’t. Mitchell hurriedly pulled out his cell phone and called the controller at the Intelligence Unit.

  “What have you got for me?” he barked into the phone. “It’s been hours since I told you to find out everything there is about John Dewey.”

  “That was only forty-five minutes ago, sir,” the controller corrected.

  “Well, it certainly feels that long. You must have gotten something by now.”

  The controller maintained a professional tone, despite his annoyance. “Dewey’s fingerprints were a match to the record we have on file, dating back almost twenty five years. He’d been arrested for drug trafficking and theft of stolen property. He would have been about thirty-four years old at the time and spent six years in prison –”

  “I need something more recent than that,” Mitchell interrupted.

  “That is the latest we have on him, sir. Mr. Dewey hasn’t surfaced in the system for the last eighteen or so years.”

  Until now, Mitchell wanted to say. Eighteen years of inactivity doesn’t necessarily mean that Dewey had gone legit, despite what Yasmine told Mitchell about Dewey’s conversion to Christianity. “Please don’t tell me that is all that you have,” he said to the controller.

  “Well, it says here that he was the former gang leader of the infamous Island Bloods.”

  “The Island Bloods? Now why does that name sound so familiar?”

  “Because it is. Last year we had a number of complaints from middle class residents, reporting an increase in house break-ins and drug trafficking. Several of the arrests made by police had led them to drug suppliers, who were suspected of being connected to this gang.

  “And I’m inclined to believe that that gang is very much alive,” Mitchell said. “Same old cats, carrying out their mission through fresh recruits.”

  “Are you saying that Dewey could be behind the fire?”

  “I’m saying that old habits die hard. Moreover, it is difficult for members of such gangs to simply quit. Most times, their exit is met with a deadly retribution. Personally, I believe that Dewey had been using his position in the church as a cover up.”

  “What do you want me to do at this point?” the controller asked. “Because it’s clear that your mind is set on following this lead.”

  “You better believe it,” Mitchell spat, suddenly becoming invigorated with a fresh batch of thoughts. “I need you to get a ho
ld of Judge Rollins and explain to her that we need a search warrant like yesterday.”

  “For?”

  “To turn Dewey’s house upside down. My intention is to confiscate every electronics device we find. Phones, computers, laptops, iPads, you name it. There has to be a message to someone that could link Dewey to that fire…listen, I have to go, but get back to me as soon as you can.”

  Mitchell hung up just as Sasha and Hunter were exiting the elevator. The women looked as if they had walked through world war four. Their faces were smeared with dirt, most of it covering their clothing and shoes. Mitchell assumed their appearance was the result of them trying to escape for their lives. He, however, was not as concerned about their appearance as he was of their sanity. They seemed fit enough to answer a few of his questions.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Beckford,” Mitchell called. “Can I speak with you for a minute? And please, tell me how your husband is doing.”

  Sasha turned swiftly to acknowledge the young officer. “A week ago you were hell bent on framing my husband with Yasmine’s lies and now all of a sudden you’re showing concern? I don’t buy it. Why are you really here? To say now that my husband started the fire?”

  How could this woman accuse me of deception when she too had had doubts about her husband’s innocence? If Yasmine hadn’t retracted her story, I’m convinced the Beckford’s marriage would have gone to the dump for sure…wow, what a bloody hypocrite! Mitchell swallowed his anger and gave Sasha a half smile. “Mrs. Beckford, you are well within your rights to be suspicious of my intentions. I apologize for my actions on last week, but I was only doing my job. Let’s put our differences aside for the moment and please help me find the criminals who’ve done this to your church…and to your husband.”

  “Well, I could agree with you on that,” Hunter chimed in. Thankfully, she and Sasha had been spared from any serious injury, which was a miracle within itself. So she did not see why Sasha should be so sassy, considering how favorably things turned out. She then turned to Sasha and said in a sobering manner, “Drake could have lost his life, along with everyone else who was in that building. Be patient with the man, Sasha and tell him what you know. Who’s to say those maniacs won’t strike again?”

  “If I knew anything, I would have said so a long time ago,” Sasha said in her defense. “My husband and I were standing on the pulpit when those torches came flying toward us. I didn’t see anything leading up to that moment.”

  Hunter touched Sasha’s arm in a supportive way. “What about that call you got early this morning?”

  “What call?” Mitchell asked alarmed.

  Sasha gave Hunter a sharp look for bringing it up. “I don’t see how that call relates to anything that’s going on right now.”

  “Mrs. Beckford, you would be surprised to know,” Mitchell said. “Please, let me make the decision to judge whether it is significant or not.”

  “I will give you two some time to talk in private,” Hunter said.

  Sasha pulled on Hunter’s arm. “Where are you going? I need you to stay here with me.”

  “Don’t worry, honey,” Hunter assured. “I will be right back. I need to make contact with Kevin and let him know what is going on, so that he can inform the rest of his family.”

  Sasha unwillingly let Hunter out of her sight. Her entire body was shaking like a leaf and without Hunter supporting her steps, Sasha feared she would soon collapse to the floor. Being caught in a burning building with four hundred people stampeding toward the exits was like nothing she’d ever experienced in her twenty-five years of existence. The scene was surreal, mirroring an action clip from one of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s movies. The part that kept rewinding in her head was seeing Drake, trying to shield her from the fire. The next thing she knew, Drake was rolling around on the floor, yelling, as it seemed his entire body had been engulfed in flames…

  “Mrs. Beckford,” Mitchell called, disrupting Sasha’s replay of the event. “Do you want to sit?”

  “I think I should,” she said.

  They walked over to a line of chairs that were adjacent to the receptionist’s desk. Sasha locked her hands into her lap to stop them from shaking.

  “So,” Mitchell prompted, pulling out a pen and writing pad. “Tell me about this call.”

  “It could have been about six thirty this morning, my cell phone vibrated on the dresser next to me.”

  “The call came through on your phone?” Mitchell wanted to be sure.

  “Yes…and I would have ignored it had it not been vibrating so much. Anyway, it was a sister from the church who was trying to reach Drake.”

  “Why?”

  “To tell him that Elder John had been arrested.”

  Mitchell raised a brow. “At six thirty in the morning? And where was your husband at the time?”

  “Asleep. I didn’t want to wake him, so I figured I would handle the call and explain things to him later.”

  “What things?”

  “Well, this woman told us that since Elder John had been arrested, the church would be without a leader. She went on to say that it was imperative that Drake and I attend this morning’s service to comfort the people. I remembered her being rather persistent about it. She said they were excited about us coming back anyway and that it would be a good opportunity for us to officially accept the position as Rev. Henderson’s successors.”

  Mitchell stopped writing and looked at Sasha pensively. “It almost seems to me that you and your husband were being compelled to be at that church this morning. And for what? To become victims of a sinister plan?”

  “I didn’t see it that way,” Sasha admitted. “I was more concerned about how Drake and I were going to lead anyone when we were trying to get our marriage back on track…” she paused and shot Mitchell a dubious look. “I can’t believe you’re telling me that that call may have been designed to pull me and my husband into a deathtrap. Who in the world would want to do something like that?”

  Isn’t it obvious, my dear? John Dewey, of course. Mitchell withheld his suspicion from Sasha for the moment. “What was the name of the woman who called you?”

  “Now that you ask, I don’t remember her giving her name.”

  “Are you serious, Mrs. Beckford? You could have spoken to the one responsible for that fire, for all you know. She was coercing you and your husband to take over the church. How could you not know who you were talking to?”

  “I don’t know…. she was so polite and so exuberant…” Sasha stood to her feet, not liking how Mitchell was impaling her with his beady gaze. “Plus, she’d just announced that Elder John had been arrested for attempted murder and for sexually abusing his daughter. How was anyone to think straight after all of that?”

  Mitchell stood to his feet too. “How did this woman get your number?”

  “From the database in the church’s administrative office.”

  “And you remember giving your number to the church?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “What do you know, Mrs. Beckford?” Mitchell snapped. “Four hundred people almost lost their lives today, including yours and your husband’s. I would expect –”

  “I would expect that you would understand how difficult this is for me right now,” Sasha said. “My husband is twisting in pain from first and second degree burns to his legs and lower back. If I had the slightest inclination of who’s responsible for starting that fire, don’t you think I would have said so by now? So don’t you dare shove your unreasonable demands on me, because I will not allow you to do it.”

  A week ago, Mitchell had gotten a taste of Sasha’s temper. He now fully respected it, seeing how much it had grown in such a short time. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to come down hard on you. I’m anxious to catch these bastards before they have a chance to rebound. However, there is something you can do that could help me track down the woman who called you this morning.”

  Sasha folded her arms. “And how is that possibl
e?”

  “The woman’s number should be in your phone log. I’m gonna need it to compare it against telephone company records.”

  “That may be a problem.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Hunter and I both lost our cell phones while trying to escape out of the building.”

  Mitchell didn’t appear discouraged in the least. “Don’t worry, a team of investigators have been combing through the crime scene for the last eight hours. I’m certain they will come up with what we need. Trust me, Mrs. Beckford, it won’t be long before we track down these bastards and toss them in jail, where they belong.”

  “I sure hope so, because I can’t imagine going through anything like this again.”

  Mitchell turned away, quickly finding another victim to bombard with his questions.

  ****

  Hunter knew that calling long distance from a pay phone would be costly, but she’d lost her cell phone and she needed to get Kevin on the line. Besides that, Hunter had been wanting to talk to Kevin since before the fire, because he hadn’t called her in almost a week. Now Hunter considered herself to be a very understanding woman. In fact, so understanding that she’d tried not to make a big deal out of it. However, a part of her kept thinking that it was impossible for Kevin to be that busy, failing to make even a small effort to contact her. He only needed two minutes to say hello. But when Hunter heard Kevin’s cultured tone coming through the receiver, she bit back whatever negative words wanted to escape through her tight lips.

  “Hi Kevin, it’s nice to hear your voice,” she said.

  “I can say the same,” he replied, his tone sounding sincere. “I’m guessing you got my voicemail.”

  “It depends on when you sent it.”

  “About an hour ago.”

  Okay…he did try to contact me, but why did he wait so long? “No, I wouldn’t have gotten your message. I lost my cell over eight hours ago.”