by RM Johnson
She looked lovingly down at Nathaniel, then back up at Freddy. “I love him, Freddy. What if we didn’t give him up?”
“We already talked about this. We need the money.”
“Maybe we can take the money and still find a way to keep him.”
“No, we can’t!” Freddy said, standing from the sofa. “Do you hear me? We can’t. We made the plan, let’s stick to it. Okay?”
“Okay,” Joni said, sadness in her voice. “Yeah, okay.”
Four hours later, after she and Freddy had been sleeping for nearly an hour, Joni gently climbed out of bed and walked out of her bedroom. She pushed open Nathaniel’s door, stepped over to his bed, and stared down at him, smiling. After another few minutes, she leaned over, kissed the boy on the forehead, turned around, and went back to bed.
71
“They came just like you said they would,” Monica said the next day, sitting up in her hospital bed.
Holding Monica’s hand, Nate said, “I’m sorry. Sorry it all had to come out like this. I did what I did to get you back. I never thought—”
“It’s done, Nate,” Monica said, sounding as though she understood.
Nate brought her hand to his lips, kissed it. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“If you only knew what I was going through, thinking I’d lose you.”
“You don’t have to think about that anymore. I’m back, and I’m not going anywhere.” Monica smiled.
“You promise?”
“Of course I do.”
“Good,” Nate said. He saw something in Monica’s eyes. He thought it looked like fear. He knew the reason why it was there.
“I don’t want you to go to Atlanta, Nate.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Do what Tim is suggesting and call the—”
“Tim can suggest all he wants, and he can be wrong. His son is at home, Monica,” Nate said, irritated. He stood from his chair. “The police have supposedly been working on this case since the shooting, and still they have no clue as to where Ford is. I can’t trust them with our boy’s life.”
“Okay,” Monica said under her breath, her head lowered.
Nate sat again, stared her in the eye. “Will you trust me on this one thing? Whatever happens, I promise I will bring Nathaniel home safely to you. Will you trust me?”
Monica looked into his eyes for a long moment, blinking back impending tears. “Yes, Nate. I’ll trust you.”
The next morning, Nate walked down the stairs in his home. A small bag hung over one shoulder, a leather satchel was slung over the other. It contained the five million dollars in cash he was to give to Freddy.
Tim followed down the stairs behind Nate. “Please,” he said. “Just let me call the police. I’m sure there’s a way they can do it, where Ford won’t even know.”
At the bottom of the stairs, Nate spun around. Tim stopped abruptly, almost colliding with Nate. They were face-to-face.
“And what if Ford does find out? What if he does know, and kills Nathaniel? Then what?” Nate said, an edge in his voice. “Are you saying that holding on to five million dollars is worth my child’s life?”
“No, Nate. You know I’d never say that,” Tim said apologetically.
“Then we’re ending this conversation,” Nate said, turning and heading through the living room toward the front door. He stepped outside, where a limo waited curbside to take Nate to the airport.
“Please, Nate. Reconsider.”
Nate turned again to Tim. He extended his hand for his brother to shake. “I’ll call you once I have my son.”
72
Nate sat in first class. He cracked the cap on one of the two tiny plastic bottles of scotch the flight attendant had just given him. He poured the contents into a plastic cup, then did the same with the second bottle.
As the last drop poured from the bottle, Nate thought his hand was shaking. He stared at it a moment, and yes, indeed, it was. He set the bottle down and grabbed his hand with the other, massaging it.
His heart was racing. He wiped a hand against his brow and brought back fingertips covered with sweat.
The plane had not even taken off yet and Nate was a wreck.
Get yourself together, he urged himself. Your child’s life depends on this.
Nate lifted the plastic cup of alcohol to his lips and kicked it back, gulping it all down in two swallows.
He settled back into his seat, stared aimlessly out the window, and prayed that everything would work out.
73
Nate set the satchel of money in the trunk of the rental sedan, along with his travel bag. He slammed the trunk closed. He paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder. He had the strange sensation that he was being watched.
He walked around the car, got in, and closed himself inside, locking the doors. He pulled a folded page from the breast pocket of his suit and entered the address Freddy had given him into the car’s navigation system.
The device calculated the route to the destination Nate entered.
It would take him forty-five minutes.
Nate started the car, shifted it in gear, then backed out of the parking spot.
74
“Joni, come on. What are you doing?” Freddy called from the open front door. He looked down at his watch and saw that if they left that very minute, they would only be there five minutes before they were supposed to meet Mr. Kenny. He had told Joni that they should’ve left an hour ago, just in case something went wrong, like a flat tire or something.
“I’m coming,” Joni called from upstairs. “Nathaniel had to use the bathroom one more time.”
A moment later, Joni hurried to the front door, Nathaniel smiling in her arms.
Half an hour later, Freddy pulled the car alongside the old abandoned building. There was really nothing else around there except two other big vacant buildings. The windows were knocked out, doors were hanging off the hinges.
Sitting in the car with Joni, the windows down, he noted how unsettling it felt.
“Now, when he pulls up …” Freddy said. “I told him you’ll be the one getting out of the car and walking over to him, getting the money.”
“Okay,” Joni said, eagerly accepting the responsibility.
“I would’ve done it. But as long as he knows I’m still with the boy, he knows he needs to do what we tell him. Know what I’m saying?”
Freddy looked over his shoulder to the backseat, where Nathaniel played with one of the toys that Joni had recently bought him. Freddy reached across Joni’s knees, opened the glove compartment of the old car, and grabbed the gun. He held it out to her.
“This here is just for show. Put it in your jeans, raise up your shirt a little so he can see it, just so he knows we mean business, alright?”
“Alright,” Joni said. Freddy could see the slightest bit of fear, of doubt, in her eyes.
He placed a hand on her shoulder, leaned in to look closely into her eyes. “You gonna be okay with this?”
Joni swallowed hard. “Yeah.” She nodded. “I’m gonna be fine. All I gotta do is this one thing. Get our money, and then we gonna leave this place so we can be together.” She smiled.
“That’s right. This one thing,” Freddy said, taking Joni’s hand and squeezing. “And we’ll be together, and won’t have to worry about nothing.” Freddy smiled.
The smile disappeared from his face when he saw a dark-zcolored sedan turning into the parking lot of the building they had parked beside.
“It’s him,” Freddy said, feeling a quick rush of adrenaline flow through him. He flashed the headlights twice, as he had told Nate he would.
The sedan stopped, facing Freddy’s car, fifty feet away.
—
Nate shifted the car into park. His cell phone rang. He picked it up.
“Hello.”
“You got the money?” It was Freddy.
“I got it.”
“Anybody in the c
ar with you? ’Cause I ain’t playin’. I’ll snap this boy’s neck like a straw.”
“I got it!” Nate said.
“I’m sending my girl over there. You give her the money, and when she brings it back, I’ll send your boy.”
“No. Send him—”
“Shut up!” Freddy yelled. “You ain’t in no position to be making demands. You do what the fuck I say, and hope I give you back this boy. You hear me?”
“Yes,” Nate said, trying to keep his anger in check. It’ll be over in a moment, he told himself. I’ll have Nathaniel and be back on my way to Chicago.
“Get the money. She’s coming out,” Freddy said.
“Okay, we have movement from the Dodge,” Detective Martins said into the radio, while looking through the binoculars. He and Detective Davis, along with officers from both the Chicago Police Department and the Atlanta Police Department, were crouched just inside the third floor of one of the abandoned buildings. They all wore vests, prepared for the worst to happen.
“Who is that?” Tim said, watching through a pair of binoculars he had been given, as Joni exited the car.
“We don’t know,” Detective Davis said, then spoke into his radio. “Keep an eye on the woman.”
“We have a shot,” a voice came back through the radio. “Do I take the shot?” It was the voice of an officer inside another of the abandoned buildings. He sat crouched, squinting into the scope of a long-range sniper rifle. He followed Joni as she approached the dark sedan, the crosshairs aimed on her skull.
Nate would be angry about him informing the police about all this, Tim thought. But he knew it was the right thing to do. Moment’s after Nate had left for the airport, Tim had called Detective Martins, who had been waiting for his call.
“He just left,” Tim said. “Come and get me now.”
The police picked up Tim, and Martins, Davis, and three other officers from the CPD boarded a private jet and flew to Atlanta.
They had raced to the address where Nate had told Tim he was meeting Ford, a full hour before the meeting. They had set up in the nearby vacant buildings and waited.
Nate stepped out of the car. He saw the woman approaching him.
“Just going in the trunk for the money,” Nate said to the woman.
Nate opened the trunk, pulled out the satchel, and slammed the trunk back down.
Joni was standing directly in front of Nate now. She looked him over, as if she were building an impression. A look of distaste covered her face. “So you’re him. The man that’s caused Freddy all his pain.”
“I have your money. Get my son.”
“Open it up.”
“It’s all there. I don’t have to lie to you,” Nate said, becoming impatient.
“I said, open the fucking bag,” Joni said, lifting the front of her shirt to expose the gun in her waist. —
“Do you see that?” Tim said, the binoculars pressed hard to his eyes. “She has a gun!”
“We still have a shot,” the deep voice came through the radio again.
“Hold!” Martins said, still watching the scene through his binoculars. “Do you hear me? Hold!”
“Holding.”
Nate unzipped the satchel, held it open for Joni to see. “Like I said. It’s all there.”
Freddy sat nervously watching the exchange take place. Nathaniel sat in his lap, Freddy’s arm around the boy. “What’s taking so fucking long? Just grab the bag and bring it back.” He felt that something wasn’t right. Freddy looked around at the surrounding buildings, getting the strange feeling that he was being watched.
He saw no one, and nothing unusual. But then—wait. His gaze traveled back. He saw a glimpse of sunlight reflect off of something in a window of one of the buildings.
No! Freddy thought, narrowing his eyes, looking closer. And then … there. He saw it. A man’s head behind a pair of binoculars.
“Zip it back,” Joni said.
Nate did as he was told.
Joni reached out, snatched the bag from him.
“Now give me my son,” Nate demanded.
Joni shook her head. “I hate you, and I don’t even know you. You don’t deserve Nathaniel.”
“Give me my son,” Nate said again, lunging for Joni.
She whipped the gun from her waist, pointed it at Nate, prepared to pull the trigger.
“No!” Freddy said. He had kicked the car door open, stumbled out of it, and was running toward Nate and Joni when he saw her pull the gun. “Don’t do it!” he said, reaching out to her.
“Gun!” Tim heard one of the officers say. Then he heard another officer. “Gun!”
“She has a gun!” Tim yelled at Martins. “She’s going to kill my brother.”
“We have the shot,” the deep voice came again, sounding incredibly calm. “Take the shot?”
“She’s going to kill him!” Tim said, yanking on Martins’s arm.
“Take the shot!” Martins ordered into the radio.
Nate shut his eyes, gasped, taking what he thought would be his final breath, because he knew this woman shooting him at such close range would definitely kill him. He had been lucky last time, but not again.
Joni was smiling, the gun in her hand, the money in her possession. She had done the one thing she had to do, and she hadn’t even given up the boy. Her future quickly played out in her head.
Joni and Freddy married on a Cuban beach, Nathaniel there at their side. They lived in a small villa. Freddy and Joni made love every afternoon, and took long walks on the water’s edge with Nathaniel at sunset every evening. It was beautiful. Exactly what she always dreamt of for her life. Then a single shot rang out and echoed among the three abandoned buildings. A tiny red speck appeared in the center of her forehead, and the back of her skull exploded outward.
Freddy was mere feet from Joni when she was shot. He was so close that some of her blood, bone, and brain matter spattered across his face. Her body fell lifeless to the ground before him. He fell to his knees, slid beside her.
“Nooooooooooooo!” he screamed. Grabbing her, pulling her body into his. He took her face into his hands, shook her. Blood and vomit spilled from her mouth. “Joni! Joni!” Freddy cried. Then he felt hands on him, yanking him away from her. There was frenzied movement around him, men’s voices yelling, but Freddy stayed focused on Joni’s lifeless, open eyes, as the men dragged him farther away from the woman he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.
Nate stood there in near shock, shaking. Police cars came from everywhere, sirens screaming, skidding to a halt, blowing up dust all around him.
“Did you here me, Nate? Are you alright?” Tim said for the second time, standing in front of his brother.
Nate hadn’t seen him till then. His eyes were still on the dead girl. He turned his attention to Tim. “Yeah,” he said, feeling as though everything that had just happened were a horrific dream. “I’m okay.”
75
Freddy was taken into custody, and would be returned to Chicago to stand trial for the crimes he had committed against Monica and Nate.
It was approaching eight P.M. by the time Nate and Tim were finished with the police in Atlanta and were stepping off the private plane that flew them back to Chicago with Nathaniel.
Detectives Martins and Davis assured Nate that they would make Freddy Ford’s prosecution a priority.
“We’re sorry this had to happen,” Detective Davis said, shaking Nate’s hand. Nate was holding Nathaniel in his other arm.
“I’m just glad to have my son back,” Nate said gratefully.
At nine P.M., Nate and Tim were out at the park near Tim’s house, sharing a bench. Layla and Nathaniel played tag a few feet in front of the two men.
“Those two should be in bed,” Tim said.
“Want them to tire themselves out.”
“So when are we going to see Monica?”
Nate didn’t look at his brother when he said, “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m going t
o.”
“What are you talking about, Nate?”
“There was a lot for me to think about during the trip to Atlanta,” Nate said, turning on the bench to face Tim. “What if I never saw Nathaniel again?”
“But that didn’t happen.”
“But what if it would have? I don’t know why it’s happening now, but I’m finally being given what I’ve always wanted. I don’t know if I can just—”
Tim stood, shaking his head, waving his hands about. “No. No, don’t tell me that you’re considering leaving Monica. After everything that the two you have been through, you can’t honestly be thinking of abandoning her.”
“It’s not abandonment,” Nate said.
“Then exactly what is it?”
Nate didn’t speak for a moment. He really didn’t have an answer for his brother. Maybe Tim was right. Nate stood, rested his hands on his brother’s shoulders. He tried to smile. “I haven’t made up my mind on this, but I feel I’m leaning toward accepting this baby in my life. Will you support me in that decision?”
“You’re my brother, Nate. But what you’re doing to Monica is—” “Will I have your support?” Nate said, putting forth effort to keep the smile on his face.
Tim shook his head, forced himself to finally say “Yes.”
76
Lewis sat in Mrs. Roberts’s office, wearing khaki pants, a button-down shirt, and a tie. He felt crazy, but Eva had told him he had to dress nicely for the interview.
They had just come back from her walking Lewis through the records room. There were stacks of files in there. Hundreds of them would have to be pulled, filed, purged, and refiled every day.
Mrs. Roberts quickly went through the filing system, then gave Lewis one of the folders and said, “Okay, file this in its proper place.”
Lewis quickly ran through what she had just taught him and looked at the four-digit number on the side of the file, then the color-coded tab. He walked down one of the aisles, looking for the numbers that came just before and after the number on the file he held. He then slid the file he was holding between the two.
