Dread Champion

by Brandilyn Collins

  Fear rose in Rogelio with every word.What had he gotten his family into? His heart turned over, then hammered against his chest. Had Janet really turned against him?

  She’d probably had no choice.

  “As much as you want to protect your loved ones,”Delgadia continued in his ice-cold tone,“understand that I will protect mine. This is far from a business matter.You have crossed the line into my personal life. I intend to resolve this today. I want that form that you have.”

  Rogelio was speechless. In desperation he slammed down the receiver.

  Seconds later it rang again.

  Mama Yolanda shuffled into the kitchen, her slippers making a soft shoosh shoosh against the tile. She took one look at his face and halted. “Qui es, mijo?”

  He stared at the phone, its shrill rings jangling every nerve.What to do, what to do? If he ignored Delgadia, what might happen to Mama Yolanda or Kristin? It rang again and again until Rogelio’s ears nearly burst with the noise.He snatched it up, then put it to his ear as if it were a snake.

  “I make a very bad enemy, Rogelio.” Delgadia’s voice was deadly.

  Rogelio breathed hard into the phone.

  “I will only say this one time. Bring the form to my office right now. If you do not, I have any number of friends who would love to pay your old grandmother a visit.”

  Rogelio’s eyes flew to Mama Yolanda. She gaped back at him, face draining white. He gritted his teeth.What was he supposed to do? This man, this monster, had his daughter.

  “Do you hear me, Rogelio?”

  “Uh.”He swallowed. “Yeah.”

  “Do not make the mistake of going to the police. That would be the worst thing you could do. Understand?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m waiting. You have fifteen minutes.” Delgadia crunched the phone in his ear.

  Rogelio threw down the receiver, shaking. What should Ido, what should I do? He had to keep a cool head. Think!

  He closed his eyes, blocking out his grandmother’s questions. Could he choose between Mama Yolanda and his daughter? Could he just cave in, leave Roselita to be raised by this man?

  Could he put his grandmother in terrible danger? Or Kristin?

  God, are you there? What do Ido?

  “Rogelio!”Mama Yolanda shook his shoulders. “What is it?”

  His eyes flew open. His grandmother’s face blurred before him.

  He had to get her out of there.

  “Come with me, now!”He pushed her toward the door.“We have to leave!”

  “Why?” She grabbed his shirt.

  “Just go; there’s no time!”

  The form. Get the form! Rogelio flung himself down the hall and into his room, snatching it off his dresser. Then ran back to Mama Yolanda, pulled her outside, and practically shoved her into his car. He fired up the engine and took off like a madman,Mama Yolanda gripping the dashboard for dear life. Help me, God; show me what to do!

  He started to head out of town, then realized he had to protect Kristin.He screeched to her house, flew up the steps, and banged on the door. No answer. He banged harder. An eternity passed before she opened the door, a pink robe tied around her waist, her hair disheveled. She stared at him.

  “Kristin,” he gasped, “I need you to come with me.” A warning shot through his head.No.Delgadia didn’t really want to hurt these women; he wanted the relinquishment form.Maybe the worst place they could be was with him. Rogelio rubbed his forehead hard, forcing himself to think. Suddenly he knew.

  “No. I need you to take my grandmother and go to a friend’s house and stay there, understand?”

  “What—”

  “Just do it; you’re in danger! You know where you can go?”

  She nodded, eyes widening. “Uh-huh.”

  “Okay. I’ll get her into your car. Quick, go write the phone number where you’ll be.”

  “I have to get dre—”

  “You don’t have time! Just go!”

  He jumped back to Mama Yolanda and threw open the car door, hustling her into Kristin’s Mustang. Kristin appeared a moment later, shoving a piece of paper into his hand. “It’s about the baby, isn’t it?” Fear stood in her eyes.

  He nodded.“Do not leave your friend’s house until I say so.Don’t tell anybody where you are. And put your car in her garage.”

  “Rogelio, where are you going?” she wailed.

  He pressed his lips. “I’ll call you.” He pushed her toward her car, then ran for his own. Kristin backed out of her driveway and drove off.

  Rogelio raced as fast as he dared toward the freeway, hands gripping the wheel. Telling himself he was doing the right thing. Once he put that relinquishment form in the hands of somebody else, Del-gadia would be powerless. God help me through this.Help me protect us all.

  Despite the prayers, as he headed north on the freeway, doubts washed over him. What if Delgadia found the women? He could hurt them before he realized his threats were too late. Rogelio would never be able to forgive himself.

  He had to draw Delgadia away from Salinas.

  Rogelio neared an exit and impulsively veered off.He found the nearest gas station and ran for the pay phone. He fumbled for the phone book and looked up the number for Chef Mate. His finger trembled as he ran it down the page. There. He read the number silently, dropped a quarter into the phone, and dialed.

  “Delgadia.”

  Rogelio drew a deep breath. This was it. He’d better make the man mad enough. “It’s Rogelio. Your daughter’s real father.”

  Venom seeped through the phone.“You are going to be so sorry.”

  He willed his voice to be steady. “You can have the paper you want. Come to the courthouse in Redwood City to get it. I’m going there to wait for the verdict on the trial.”

  “The—” Delgadia chuckled low in his throat. “I don’t have time for your nonsense.What have we to do with that trial? You come here.”

  “No.” Rogelio pressed a fist against the phone booth glass. “You know how many reporters are hanging around that trial, looking for a story? If you don’t show up, I’m heading for the first one I see and telling him everything.”

  “If you don’t show up here,” Delgadia hissed, “certain people in your life will be most unhappy.”

  “They’re gone,”Rogelio shot back.“No point in going after them or my house or anything else; it’ll be too late! By the time I get through talking to reporters and the defense attorney for Darren Welk, there’s no way you’ll get to keep my baby!”

  Dead silence dragged over the line. “Defense attorney? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Now he’d done it. No turning back. “Shawna Welk’s death sure was convenient for you, wasn’t it.”

  Delgadia exhaled with slow precision. “You are very foolish, Rogelio.Very foolish indeed.”

  The line went dead. Rogelio pulled the receiver away from his ear and stared at it. Fear gnawed his stomach as he thought of Mama Yolanda and Kristin. He could hardly believe what he’d done. He told himself they were safe. Delgadia wouldn’t know where to look. Besides, Delgadia would come after him.What choice did the man have?

  God, please!

  Breathing more prayers through gritted teeth, he dropped the receiver onto its base. Then he ran back to his car and headed north toward Redwood City.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  The calmness in the jury room hadn’t lasted ten minutes. Chelsea found herself right back where she was the night before, with eleven jurors in various stages of frustration and anger, all of them doing their best to change her mind.

  “I do not understand your reasons, Chelsea.” Even Sylvia looked peeved. “We’ve gone over the buried blouse thing five times now, and every time we come to the same conclusion. Okay.Maybe Brett had a part in hiding the blouse. But no one other than Darren Welk could have killed Shawna.”

  “You don’t understand her reason because she doesn’t have one,” Tak put in. “I’m telling you, this is some sort of religi
ous thing with her.”

  “How about addressing me, Tak.” Chelsea’s voice was level but cold. “I’m right here.”

  Help me, God; help me hang on.

  “Wait a minute, everybody.” Clay hovered over the table like a vulture, his neck cocked at an angle toward Chelsea. “Ms. Adams. Doesn’t look like any of us is going to change our mind. You stand alone against everyone else on this jury, and because of where you stand, we are going nowhere. Unless you can really imagine changing all our minds, I suggest you rethink your opinion.”

  Chelsea searched for a response.

  “Do you think you can change our minds?”

  “I … I don’t know. I’m not really looking at it like that. I’m more looking for you all to convince me beyond the doubts I have.”

  “What doubts do you have?” Antonio flapped his large hand in the air.“Other than you think Brett wanted to cover up for his father. Hear the words—cover up. Meaning the dad did something that needed covering up.”

  For the next hour the jurors threw arguments at Chelsea, tempers mounting. Their voices collided with each other, leaving little room for Chelsea to answer. Soon she thought her mind would burst. Desperate prayers whipped through her head until they became one-word pleas. Protection. Strength. Kerra! Milt. Brett.

  “I’ve had enough of this,”Hesta snapped finally.“This is just getting us nowhere.”

  “Haven’t we all had enough.” Latonia glared daggers at Chelsea. Her red blush seemed to pulse right off her dark cheeks.

  Weariness washed up Chelsea’s throat and she fought to push it back down.What had happened to the peace that God had given her? How long did he expect this to go on?

  “You know what I think?” Gloria declared. “I think we should go back to court and tell ’em we’re hung.” She skidded back her chair to stomp toward the water dispenser, furiously sweeping her hair behind her ears.

  “Are you kidding?” Clay protested.“We’ve only been at this a full day now.”

  “So? We’re not getting anywhere.” Gloria snatched a paper cup.

  Clay rested narrowed eyes upon Chelsea, then looked around the table. “You all don’t want to do that, do you?”

  Victor shook his head. “Won’t matter if we do. The judge will be upset that we thought of giving up so easily. She’ll only tell us to come back and try again.”

  “Maybe that’s exactly what some of us need to hear,” Tak said, sneering at Chelsea.

  “I agree it hasn’t been that long,” Hesta said, her tone clipped. “But Gloria’s right; we’re not making any progress. I say we send the judge a message. Tell her it’s eleven to one with Chelsea Adams as the holdout, and she’ll give no reasonable explanation as to why.”

  Chelsea focused on her twisting fingers in her lap.

  “What do you say to that?” Clay pressed her. “You think we should tell the judge what you’re up to?”

  Suddenly Chelsea had endured enough. She raised defiant eyes to his. “Go ahead if you want. But I don’t see where that’s going to get us. Instead of wasting your time trying to intimidate me,maybe we ought to stick to our discussion.”

  Henry Slatus exhaled in disgust.“What exactly is our discussion? What’s it going to take to convince you?”

  What do I say, Lord? Ican’t even clarify to myself what it will take!

  The room settled into silence as they waited for her response. Chelsea stared at the table as if searching for an answer to appear written upon it.“What it all would have to come down to,” she managed at length, “is Tracey’s testimony. She’s the key witness. She places herself at the beach, sees the footprints that are later washed away, and on and on. And I just … maybe something isn’t right about her testimony. After all, she stands to gain a great deal from a guilty verdict.”

  “We know that,”Mike Bariston said with impatience. “But every part of her testimony has fit with evidence.”

  “Maybe not.Maybe we’ve missed something.”

  “Okay, fine,we’ve missed something.” Clay wagged his head as if she’d taken his last ounce of strength.“What do you want to go over as we ‘stick to our discussion’?”

  Chelsea fidgeted with her pen. In the next moment an answer popped clearly into her head. “I want to hear her testimony again.”

  “We’ve got it all in our notes,” Clay objected.

  “No. I want to hear her words read back to us.”

  “How?” B. B. frowned.

  Victor flexed his back tiredly. “We’d have to send word to the judge. She’d call everybody back into court and have the testimony read.”

  Clay considered Chelsea with half-closed lids.“How about this: We’ll have the testimony read back. But if nothing very specific jumps out at you, you’ll be left with no argument. You’ll have to change your vote.”

  Chelsea felt a catch in her chest. Is this what you want, Lord?

  Surely it was.What other choice did she have?

  “Agreed,” she said.

  A collective sigh rose from the jurors. Tak tossed his pen down and surveyed the ceiling.

  “Okay,” Clay declared. “Let’s do it.”

  MAMA YOLANDA SAT ON the couch that was too soft for her back, ankles crossed, staring mindlessly at the television. She could barely think straight. A soap opera was playing in English.Kristin slumped in a chair to her left, wiggling a foot.Her eyes were glued to the TV, as if it were her only lifeline to the world. Still,Mama Yolanda knew she heard none of it. They were alone in the house. Kristin’s young friend had scurried out the door an hour ago, headed for work. The girl’s parents were nowhere to be seen.Yolanda guessed they worked on weekends, too.

  Awkwardness hung between the two of them like a thick curtain. How to break through it? So many layers. Yolanda wanted to turn off the television, try to talk to Kristin. They both were scared to death, not knowing what was happening, waiting for the phone to ring with some news. Mama Yolanda’s muscles felt as though they might snap at any moment.

  She shut her eyes,wishing she could also shut her ears to the TV. Soon a stillness began to settle over her, the television voices fading until she heard them no more.Rogelio. The trial. These words overtook her, claimed all her thoughts. She focused on the sense within her, feeling it deepen, grow stronger.Rogelio. The trial. She must pray for them both as she never had before. Now.

  She blinked open her eyes. Pushed her fists against the soft cushions and scooted her body forward.With effort she stood. Kristin looked at her questioningly.

  “I go … ,” Yolanda said in English, then pointed toward the kitchen with her chin.

  “You want to eat?” Kristin asked.

  Yolanda shook her head. “I pray, mija.”

  Kristin could not seem to answer that. Her lips parted and she nodded.

  Yolanda made her way quickly to the kitchen table, pulled out a chair, and sank into it. Resting her elbows on the wood, laced fingers to her bent forehead, she began to pray.

  TWELVE O’CLOCK. Milt jingled coins in his pocket, nerves frayed. Almost time. Thank God, the jury still huddled. Now they’d be breaking for lunch.

  He was going to do it!

  The courtroom door opened. A bailiff emerged and headed straight for the defense attorneys. Stan Breckshire immediately hustled over. Brett was on his feet in an instant. Milt’s back straightened. Other reporters’ heads snapped around. “What’s going on?” two of them asked at once. The Three Fates got up, shuffling toward the bailiff to hear.

  Milt hurried over.“What’s up?”He hoped his voice didn’t squeak.

  Erica threw him an irritated look.“Not much. The jury wants to have some testimony read back.”

  “Now?”

  “The judge is going to wait till after lunch.” She turned to Ter-rance with a dramatic sigh. “I hate the waiting.”

  Milt’s heart shriveled.No! Everyone would be in the courtroom at the wrong time.Who’d be able to jump to his aid if he needed it? Negative thoughts ping-ponged hi
m right and left.He simply hadn’t reasoned every scenario through.What had he been thinking? This plan was crazy from the start; it would never work. Besides, he didn’t even know if he’d calculated right.What was he, an imbecile?

  As everyone else moved in murmuring groups toward the escalator, he sank onto a bench next to Bill. Vaguely Milt registered the conversation between Brett and Kerra as they passed.

  “Let’s get in the car and drive somewhere,” Brett said, sighing. “I’m tired of the places down Broadway.”

  Bill took one look at Milt’s stricken face and shrugged. “It won’t matter if they’re all in court. If everything works, I’ll be here.”

  “If everything works, you’ll be filming.”

  “Yeah.” He sniffed. “I’m gonna park the camera in the van and walk over to the coffeehouse for some lunch.Wanna come with me?”

  “No.” Milt rubbed his forehead. As if he could eat. Bill could afford to be calm; it wasn’t his career on the line. “I’ll get moving in a minute, stash my laptop in my car. Doesn’t look like I can afford to have much baggage on me.”

  As Bill sauntered off, for no reason at all Milt thought of Chelsea Adams. At the moment he almost envied her faith. Right now he’d give practically anything to be a praying man.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  Rogelio drove through Redwood City as fast as he dared.His head pounded from the constant flicking of his eyes to the rearview mirror. He’d seen no sign of Delgadia.Was that good or bad? Rogelio couldn’t decide.He’d gotten perhaps a ten-minute lead on the man. He needed time to get his adoption paper into the proper hands. But then what? If Delgadia didn’t come, where might he be? What would he be doing? What if coming here had been a terrible mistake?

  Please, God, I’ll do anything. Just protect Mama Yolanda and Kristin.