Grateful to have left the key-fob clipped to the visor, Nichelle jabbed the push-button car starter, and the car’s engine purred as it turned over.
Klaudya reared back and smashed the driver’s-side window with the butt of her gun.
Nichelle screamed as broken glass cascaded over her, but it didn’t stop her from shifting into drive and flooring the gas.
The car took off like a rocket.
Klaudya scrambled to her car in the driveway, after losing time to retrieve her electronic fob from the kitchen. With the same push-button technology, the car turned over.
Ruthie and the twins were at the front door, witnessing the tail end of the madness.
Javid jumped from out of nowhere in front of the car. “Let her go, Klaudya. You’re not thinking right.”
“Fuck you!” She stomped on the accelerator.
Javid dove out of the way in record time and was left to choke on a puff of smoke from the tailpipe.
The next time he saw either of them, it was with the police after they’d crashed on the Ventura freeway, where the police had handcuffed Klaudya and carried her off to jail.
CHAPTER 17
The storm
“Mya!” Javid roared, tearing through the house. “Mya, where are you? This isn’t funny. We’ve got to go.”
Mykell shadowed his father from room to room. “Where do you think she’s at?”
Javid had no idea, but he was out of patience with his headstrong daughter. “Mya, I mean it. I don’t have time for this bullshit. Let’s go!”
Silence.
After scrounging through Mya’s pink princess bedroom, Javid ran out of ideas where to search. It was a big house. “Shit.” He scooped out his cell phone to see if he had service.
He didn’t.
Mykell voiced a fear creeping around the back of Javid’s head. “What if somebody took her? She could be in trouble right now.”
“Mykell, stop it,” Javid barked. “I don’t need you acting like a big baby right now. Can you please suck it up? I need to find your sister.” He stormed away from his son before his shimmer of tears had him apologizing again. He wasn’t in the mood to cater to his son’s fragile emotions. It didn’t take anything to get those tears going.
Javid tugged his son toward the door. “C’mon, we’re going to Ruthie’s.”
“What about Mya?” Mykell whined. “We have to find her.”
“I will, son. I will. I promise.”
Mykell dragged his feet.
Javid grabbed the boy’s raincoat and helped shove him into it.
Mykell cried.
“C’mon, son. I’m going to need you to man up. Stop crying.”
At the bass in his father’s voice, Mykell cried harder and ran through a list of reasons why they couldn’t leave the house. “She could be hurt,” was one he kept repeating.
“Mya is fine, son. I promise.”
Mykell made a face. His father had broken too many promises in the past year. He didn’t believe him now.
Frustrated, Javid lifted the boy and raced out of the back of the house toward Ruthie’s private quarters. It was raining harder than it had been an hour ago. A few times he slipped on the soggy earth, but he trudged on. He prayed Mya was hiding in the house and Nichelle wasn’t dying in his car.
When Javid arrived at the private cottage, the lights were out there, too. Inside he could make out flickering candlewicks. Sighing, he hammered on the door.
Ruthie took her sweet time disengaging the locks while Mykell cried. When the housekeeper opened the door, she shined a flashlight in their faces. “I figured you’d show up here.”
“You did?”
“Of course.” She opened the door further and revealed his soaking-wet daughter standing by Ruthie’s side.
“Mya!” Javid lowered Mykell to the porch.
The boy spun around and threw his arms around his twin. “Mya!”
“What are you doing here?” Javid thundered. “Do you know how worried me and your brother were?”
Mya pushed away from her brother and folded her arms.
“I don’t want to camp with Grandma!”
Ruthie shook her head. “I would’ve called you the second she arrived at my door, but service is out.”
“Yeah, I know. We have the same problem back at the house.” He relaxed. “Hey, I need you to do me a favor. Can you watch the kids? I have to run to the hospital.”
“Hospital? Is there a problem?”
“Grandma fell and hurt her head,” Mykell blabbed.
“Oh, my. Of course, I’ll watch the children,” Ruthie said.
“Thanks, Ruthie.” He delivered a peck on her cheek. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you.”
“I have a pretty fair idea.” She grinned. “But you be careful out there on the road. I can’t remember the last time we’ve had weather like this.”
“I will.” Javid knelt to the kids’ level. “Now you two be good and listen to Ruthie. I should be back in a few hours.” He gathered them into a hug and kissed their foreheads.
The children kissed him back.
After Javid raced off the porch, he turned and gave a final wave.
“And that was the last time I saw him alive.” Ruthie lowered her head.
Lieutenant Schneider pushed a Kleenex box toward her.
“Thank you.” Ruthie swiped a few sheets to wipe her eyes.
Armstrong and Schneider exchanged looks and thanked Ruthie for her time.
CHAPTER 18
A tired, red-eyed Lieutenant Armstrong entered the interrogation room with his partner. Guilt weighed heavily on him for Nichelle being back in this situation. If only he’d never pressured the Ramseys to take her in, Nichelle Mathis wouldn’t be looking at another life sentence without the possibility of parole.
Nervous, Nichelle, in her orange prison garb, hopped to her feet when the men entered. “Well? Did you find Sassy?”
He shook his head. “Yeah, we found her. She wasn’t much help, though. She said she hadn’t seen your daughter since the day of Klaudya’s release from prison.”
“That bitch. She’s lying.”
“You have any proof?” he asked.
The way Nichelle plopped into her seat told all he needed to know. “Look, you got to help me. I didn’t do this.”
Schneider, unmoved by Nichelle’s performance, whipped out a folder. “And what about this?”
Nichelle eyed it like he’d dropped a snake in the middle of the table. “What is it?”
“You don’t know?” he asked.
“Should I?”
Armstrong sighed as if he’d spotted a crack in her innocence. “It’s an insurance policy.”
Nichelle stiffened.
“Ring a few bells now?”
Nichelle sucked her teeth and shook her head. “Okay, I know it looks bad. But it’s not what you think.”
“Looks bad?” Schneider said. “It’s what the prosecution likes to call motive.”
Nichelle scrambled to explain. “We were getting married. We both took insurance out on each other.”
“Yeah, we have the policies you both took out on the same day . . . but you went back—and doubled his from two million to five million—a week before he died.”
Nichelle squirmed in her chair and insisted, “I’m being set up.”
“You’ve said that already,” Schneider droned on, bored. “But . . . where’s the proof? From everything I see . . . you moved into your daughter’s place, she experienced some breakdown that landed her behind bars for assault, a considerable downgrade from attempted murder.”
“Tell me about it,” Nichelle grumbled. “Those high-powered lawyers can work miracles.”
Schneider went on, “You stole her husband, took out an extraordinary amount of life insurance, and he ends up dead. But your murder charge is your daughter’s fault. Do I have that right?”
“You’re underestimating my daughter. She’s not as innocent as she appears
.”
“And yet, before you showed up on her doorstep, Klaudya Ramsey was a model citizen. No priors. Performed a ton of community service. Her neighbors loved her.”
Nichelle stopped arguing with Schneider and returned her attention to Armstrong. “You believe me, don’t you?”
Armstrong hedged.
Tears swelled and rolled like boulders over her face. “I swear to you. I didn’t do this.”
Both men stared back, their faces unreadable.
“I don’t fucking believe this.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and blinked back tears.
“This dysfunctional mother-daughter relationship might be clouding your judgment. Do you know of anyone else who might’ve wanted Javid Ramsey dead?”
She shook her head, sniffing.
“No one? No enemies? What about at his job? He closed his business firm rather quickly, didn’t he?”
Nichelle froze. “What do you mean?”
Armstrong tested her. “Ari Chase had been Javid’s business partner for more than a decade. Then, one day, they shut down the firm without any prior notice, Chase sold his house, packed up the wife and kids and disappeared.”
Nichelle sat mute.
“Know anything about it?” Schneider asked.
Nichelle shook her head.
Armstrong leaned over the table and braided his fingers together. “Ever heard of Emilio Vargas?”
“No.” At their exchanged looks, it occurred to her she’d answered too quickly. “At least, I don’t think so,” she amended.
“So . . . you didn’t meet him . . . say, at a party?”
Nichelle’s expression hardened. “Why are you asking me questions you already know the answers to?”
“Why else? To see if you’ll tell the truth. And you’re not.”
She shook her head. “Klaudya is going to get away with it again. Isn’t she?”
“Again?” Schneider asked. “What do you mean?”
Nichelle speared him with an angry look. “What in the hell do you think? I took the blame the last time. I’m not going to do it again. Is it too much to ask you two to do your fuckin’ jobs and investigate?”
The men shared confused looks.
“I mean, she was a child the last time. I wasn’t about to see my kid get locked up . . .”
1995
Nichelle quietly opened the front door of her house, but the moment she closed the door behind her there, a light clicked on. She spun around and saw her angry husband, Shadiq, in his favorite chair with a bottle of Jim Beam in his hand. “Where the fuck have you been?” he barked.
“One of the girls was late, so I had to perform another set to cover for her,” she lied.
“Such a pretty mouth that spits so much bullshit.” Shadiq stared as he chugged from the bottle, and then swiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s more fucked up is you believing my ass is dumb as hell.”
Nichelle sighed. “Shadiq, I’m tired. I’m not in the mood for this.” She marched over to him and pulled out tonight’s knot of cash and handed it to him.
Shadiq slapped the wad of cash out of her hand to let it rain throughout the living room.
“What the fuck, Shadiq?”
He roared to his feet. “I went to Fat Tacos, and I watched you spend a muthafuckin’ hour on some dusty Negro’s lap while his head was rolled the fuck back. I know I’ve seen that muthafucka in there for the last three weeks.”
“Shadiq—”
“I knew your ass been collecting side niggas at that club and bringing your stretched-out pussy back home to me like I’m supposed to be grateful or some shit.” He leaned his face within an inch of hers. “Tell me I’m fuckin’ wrong. I fuckin’ dare you.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Bitch!” Shadiq crashed his fist across her jaw.
Nichelle tumbled back. “He’s a loyal customer,” she screamed.
“Bullshit!” He stormed forward.
She backpedaled but shouted back, “How the fuck are we gonna pay the muthafuckin’ bills around here? Those loyal muthafuckas I keep happy in the champagne room, that’s how!”
“What are you trying to say? Are you saying I ain’t pulling my weight around here?”
“No. I . . .”
“I’m a muthafuckin’ man.” He pounded his chest. “I provide for mine. I don’t want their jack-off money. In fact, your ass ain’t going back.”
Nichelle stopped walking. “How are we going to pay bills? You ain’t held a legit job in years, and nobody trusts you to move any weight because you’re too busy getting high off your supply. You ain’t made a grip in six muthafuckin’ months! We got kids! How are they gonna eat if I ain’t shaking my ass on some dusty nigga’s lap?”
Shadiq’s hand was like a lightning strike, knocking her to the floor. “Oh, you’re a mouthy bitch tonight.” He shook his head. “It never fails. Every time bitches get a few dollars in their pockets, they grow fuckin’ balls.”
Nichelle touched her lips and saw the blood. “Fuck you.”
“Fuck me? Nah, fuck you.” He launched forward.
Nichelle screamed and scrambled away on her hands and knees. Across the hall, she saw little Kaedon’s baseball bat leaning in the doorway. She was inches from it when Shadiq grabbed her by the back of the head and snatched her. Nichelle pounded his grip until he released her.
Shadiq pounced, fist swinging.
Nichelle hung in there as best as she could, but each punch produced bright stars behind her eyes.
“What did I tell you about your slick-ass mouth?” he roared. “Huh? You think you all that because you can get those niggas’ dicks hard. Let’s see how much they want to nut after I fix your face for you.”
Nichelle’s head snapped back with another blow to the head.
“Daddy, stop!” Kaedon ordered, launching onto his father’s back.
Shadiq flung his son off.
The boy’s head made a solid hit against the corner of the coffee table before he fell limp beside it.
“Kaedon!” Nichelle doubled her efforts to escape her husband’s swinging fist.
In his rage, Shadiq hadn’t noticed what had happened. But the next voice caught his attention. “Stop, Daddy.”
The punching stopped when Shadiq saw his little girl aim the gun at him. He grinned. “Looks like shit just got real.”
“Daddy, you’re hurting Mommy.”
“And you’re playing with guns after I’ve done told you they weren’t toys.”
Klaudya’s entire four-foot body shook.
Nichelle inched from under her husband to make it over to Kaedon.
Shadiq asked, “Now, what are you going to do with the gun, little girl. Hmm?”
“I want you to stop hurting Momma.”
Seeing Nichelle creep away, he quickly grabbed her again while speaking directly to his daughter. “Klaudya, this here ain’t none of your damn business. This is grown folks’ business. You understand? Now you hand me the gun, and you and your brother go back into your rooms and shut the door.”
Klaudya shook her head.
“Do you hear me, little girl? Go do what I told you,” he snapped.
Klaudya clicked off the safety and racked the first bullet just like he’d taught her at the gun range. Tears flowed from her eyes and blurred her vision.
“Klaudya,” he warned, finally releasing Nichelle to inch toward his daughter. “Give me the gun.”
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Nichelle clutched Kaedon’s limp body. “No. No. No.”
“Klaudya,” her father barked, making her jump. “Don’t make me tell you again.”
“I can’t find a pulse,” her mother wailed.
“HAND ME THE DAMN GUN.”
Heart racing, Klaudya inched backward, but her father was closing the space faster than she was getting away.
“You little bitch!
Klaudya could barely keep her hands level.
Shadiq lurched—
and Klaudya pulled the trigger . . .
Armstrong’s brows crashed over his eyes while disbelief blanketed his face. “Klaudya killed your husband? And you took the heat?”
“She was a child . . . and she was trying to protect me. I wasn’t about to let the system lock her up and brand her as some troubled kid. Plus, after Shadiq and my long and troubled history of domestic violence, I was confident the jury would buy a self-defense argument. I was wrong. There is no justice in the justice system. It’s just us locked in it. Had I given up Klaudya, the state would have tossed her into one of those junior jails they love so much. She had already lost her brother and father. I wanted her to have a real chance. I never believed she’d grow up hating me. In the beginning, she’d write me every day. When she became a teenager, the letters stopped.
“One of the reasons I insisted on staying with her in Calabasas after I was not wanted there was . . . well. Damn it. She owed me. I served her time while she was out living the good life. Why couldn’t she help me until I got on my feet—however long it took?”
“On your feet or on your back?” Schneider asked, disgusted. “How does stealing her husband come into play? You were jealous. Jealous enough to steal the good life you claim you wanted her to have.” He looked at his partner. “Are you still buying all this?”
“Fine, I wanted Klaudya’s life,” Nichelle snapped. “But I didn’t kill Javid. I swear.”
“Oh, you swear? Well, I guess that settles it.” Schneider chuckled.
Armstrong glared at Nichelle. “What did happen to Javid that night of the storm? Why is there no record of him ever taking you to a hospital? Why were you found with him and his blood all over you?”
“All I can tell you is that I woke up with my head pounding in the backseat of a car . . .”
The pounding rain on the car’s roof was tantamount to torture. Plus, she was freezing. Her wet clothes plastered to her body. What was she doing out there? How did she get there?
She peered through the heavy sheets of rain toward the dark estate. Nichelle swore there was a light moving around in the house.
“What the hell is going on?” She opened the back car door and climbed out into the pouring rain. When she took a step, the world spun beneath her feet. C’mon, girl. Pull yourself together. It was easier said than done.
No Loyalty Page 11
