Nichelle stumbled to the front door like a drunkard with a broken toe. After opening the door, she held onto the doorknob for a few extra seconds and waited for the dizziness to pass.
“Javid?” She huffed like she’d completed a marathon. “Javid, are you in here?”
No answer.
“Mya? Mykell?”
Silence.
Where the hell was everybody? Nichelle closed the door and was entombed in the house’s darkness. Wasn’t there a light?
“Hello?” She crossed the foyer to the first staircase. “C’mon, guys. This isn’t funny.” She tested her sore foot on the first stair and almost blacked back out from the pain.
A floor creaked somewhere. Someone was in the house. She swore, “These damn kids.” When she tested the second stair, the pain was worse. “Javid, c’mon. I need some help with these stairs.”
Silence.
“Javid?”
Her annoyance turned into suspicion and a heightened sense of awareness. None of this was right. If no one was here, how had she gotten into the car? What was the last thing she remembered?
Nichelle stopped on the third stair and held onto the banister while she scoured her memory. She was attacked in her room. Klaudya’s name sat on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back because it didn’t make sense. Klaudya was in jail. She wasn’t due to be released for at least another month. It couldn’t have been her. Could it? However, her throbbing head said otherwise. Someone had knocked the shit out of her.
Javid? They did argue before she’d stormed off to her bedroom. It hadn’t been serious enough for him to attack her—had it?
Rooted on the staircase and bathed in paranoia, Nichelle didn’t know what to do. Nothing made sense, not waking up in an empty car or entering a quiet house. The house was never quiet with the twins.
A floorboard creaked again. The echo in the house made it impossible to detect which direction it had come from. The house was huge. It could have come from anywhere.
Holding the banister, Nichelle descended back down the three steps. Whatever the hell was going on, she needed protection. She went to the kitchen and grabbed a large knife from the butcher’s block. She had seen way too many scary movies to walk into a trap.
Now armed with a weapon, Nichelle still didn’t feel safe. How long should she cower in the kitchen?
A door opened and slammed closed.
“What the fuck?” Nichelle’s fear now shifted to anger. She didn’t like fucking games, and someone was playing one with her. Nichelle hobbled back to the foyer, wincing with each step. Something scraped, like a stone. Even that didn’t make sense, but at least this time she was sure it was coming from Javid’s office.
Despite her heart leaping into her throat, Nichelle held on to her anger. Anger fueled her while every hair on her body stood. Her grip on the knife tightened as she rounded the corner to the home office.
Nothing.
Nichelle’s eyes widened to adjust to the dark. Of course, she’d been in the room before, but she wasn’t as familiar with the layout as she was with the rest of the house. It took longer to make out the different shapes and shadows. The air was different. It was thick and stuffy. It also carried an odor, much like her own: wet hair and mildewing clothes.
Someone is in here.
“Javid?” She lifted the knife and stepped inside of the room. Holding her breath, she listened to every nuanced sound. Her hand, slick with sweat, had her adjusting her grip on the knife. “I know someone is in here,” she declared. “Mya? Mykell? If it’s you, come out now so that no one gets hurt.”
Silence.
She neared the fireplace. “This isn’t funny,” she snapped before tripping over something on the floor. The knife flew out of her hand as she fell. Her head missed the corner of the hearth by an inch. Wincing, Nichelle rolled over, but there was something around her ankle. “What the fuck?”
It was some sort of bag handle. A duffel bag? As she moved to untangle her foot, stacks of something fell around her. She picked up one and instantly knew what it was. Cash. There were other bags. Were they all stuffed with money?
Excitement crashed through her, but only for a second. Why was there so much money lying around on the floor? There were also bricks on the floor. Despite her aching head, Nichelle put two and two together. The money was in the fireplace.
A floorboard creaked, but before she could turn around, she received her second whack to the back of the head . . .
At the end of her story, Nichelle shrugged. “And that’s it. When I woke up, Javid was lying dead on the floor, I had a gun in my hand, and the bag of money was gone.”
Armstrong lowered his head while Schneider shook his.
“I know what I saw!”
Armstrong said, “But you didn’t see who killed Javid. You put yourself at the scene of the crime. You admit to having the murder weapon. Days before the murder you take out additional life insurance on him—even though he was still married to your daughter.”
“I didn’t increase the policy.”
“The insurance agent, a Mrs. Bethany Grimes, says otherwise.”
“This is bullshit,” Nichelle huffed. “I’m being set up, and nobody believes me or will do a damn thing about it.”
Schneider sighed as he closed his notebook. “Well, I heard all I needed to hear. What about you?”
Armstrong sighed. “Yeah. Me too.”
Nichelle panicked when they stood. “No. Wait. What does that mean?”
Armstrong shook his head. “It means that there is nothing else we can do for you. I’m sorry. Good luck with your trial.”
The men signaled for the guard and left the broken woman sobbing. Back out in their car, Schneider asked, “So what do you think? You still believe your girl is innocent?”
“I never said she was innocent,” Armstrong growled, fishing around in his pocket for his last cigarette. “I said there was more than what meets the eye on this case. That’s a big difference.”
“Or, more likely, you like making things more complicated than they are.”
“Mathis killed her husband; now she killed her daughter’s husband. The woman is a cold-blooded murderer.”
“You act like it’s hard for you to admit.”
“Don’t psychoanalyze me, Dr. Phil.” Armstrong started the car.
“Fair enough. But we still don’t know how Señor Vargas fits into all of this.”
“Maybe he doesn’t—for once. All I know is that I’m through with running around on this case. Klaudya could’ve killed him, or Vargas could’ve done it. The one thing that doesn’t make sense is for Klaudya to have killed him and not her.”
Schneider nodded. “I knew that you’d come around to my way of seeing things.”
Armstrong’s cell phone buzzed. “Hang on.” He scooped it out from his pocket and read the screen. “It’s Agent Sullivan.”
Schneider frowned while he watched his partner answer the call.
“Hello.”
“Erik, it’s Leo. Man, I got some bad news. Arlington Chase is dead.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. Chase and a couple of our agents were gunned down in broad daylight after gassing up at a Seven-Eleven.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“I wish I was. It’s a major blow to our case. But I thought I owed you a heads-up.”
“Vargas?”
“It would be my guess.”
“All right, man. Thanks.” Armstrong disconnected the call and relayed the news to his partner.
“So do you think Vargas is also behind the Ramsey case?”
Armstrong pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have no idea. It’s going to be up to a jury to decide. C’mon, I’ll buy you a drink.”
“How about you buy me two?” Schneider said. “I’m going to need them.”
EPILOGUE
2018
Sant Joan de Labritja, Ibiza
Klaudya and the children loved th
eir new life. Living in one of the Balearic Islands off the coast of Spain, their small family enjoyed three hundred days of the year in the sun. It helped the children heal from the loss of their father much faster and to avoid the wild press of Nichelle’s second murder trial—which ended with her getting another life sentence without the possibility of parole.
Klaudya loved the people of Sant Joan. They accepted everyone–no judgment. It was a small island, which made it easy to make new friends between the daily siestas. However, it was difficult to keep secrets. But Klaudya was a master.
Their new home was a Mediterranean paradise on top of a mountain, which gave them a lovely panoramic view of the turquoise sea as well as the countryside. The two-story home was made of natural stone with a matching privacy wall and tower.
This morning Ruthie cooked and served the eleven-year-old twins their breakfast while Klaudya’s mind drifted as she stared out at the scenic view from the kitchen window. At some point, her mind roamed over her crazy life and what had happened the night of the storm . . .
Javid slogged through the backyard from Ruthie’s place, and then stormed into the house through the back doors. After shaking off the excess water, he twisted the lock behind him.
Thump!
Javid froze for a few seconds. Someone was in the house. Finally, he uprooted his feet and crept forward, all the while searching through the dark for anything he could use as a weapon.
Thump!
He froze again while every hair on his body reacted as if he’d stuck a fork into an electrical socket. When his brain came back online, he grabbed a vase for a weapon.
After an eternity, Javid made it to the doorway of his office. It was pitch black—until lightning flashed.
“Klaudya?”
She lifted her head, and the room went dark again.
Though he knew it wouldn’t come on, he flipped the light switch.
“Klaudya, I know it’s you. What the fuck are you doing here?” He stormed into the office, determined to get to the bottom of this.
Klaudya clicked on a flashlight. “What the hell do you mean? This is still my house, too, or did my mother suck all of your brain cells out through your dick?”
“Ah, there’s that mouth again.”
“Don’t do it.” She unclicked the safety and racked the first bullet. “I’m not here for the language police.”
Javid raised his hands, chest high. “Whoa. What’s this? What are you doing?”
She chuckled. “Take one guess.” She swept the beam of the light toward the fireplace, where bags of money and a body lay on the floor.
“Nichelle!” He took a step forward.
“Ah. Ah. Ah,” Klaudya warned, raising the gun. “Don’t you even fucking think about comforting her ass in front of me. Are you stuck on stupid?”
“Is she dead?”
“Does it matter?” Klaudya cocked her head.
“No, it’s just . . . ” His gaze returned to the bags. “You came for the money?”
“Yeah. I figured I’d need it if I am going to start a new life in Ibiza. ”
“Ibiza?”
“I hear it’s a great place to raise the kids.”
“The kids? You’re not taking the kids from me.”
“Oh, don’t worry. You’re coming, too.” She fired; a flash of light filled the dark room.
Javid jerked as the bullet blasted through his shoulder. “You shot me.” He dropped to his knees.
“Yeah, but unfortunately, you’ll survive it.”
Sassy stepped out of the shadows and jabbed a needle into his neck. “Nighty night, sweet prince.”
Javid pitched forward and collapsed inches from Nichelle’s unconscious body.
Sassy knelt and checked his pulse. “Damn, this shit is good. Are you sure he’s not dead?”
“He shouldn’t be. But it should fool the right people until his body is delivered to Bethany’s brother-in-law at the morgue.”
Sassy smiled as she turned her beam of light toward the bag. “I gotta hand it to you, this is the best lick we’ve pulled.”
“Yeah, well. It’s not over yet.” Klaudya planted her gun in her mother’s hand and grabbed the bag of money. “When the time comes, you make sure you play your part until the coast is clear, or we’ll have Vargas sniffing around wanting his shit back.”
“Please. For this kind of cheese, I’m going to give the performance of a lifetime.”
Bethany was right. Between her cop father and her brother-in-law at the morgue, she knew how to help someone get away with the perfect crime.
“Mom!”
“Huh?” Klaudya spun away from the window, sloshing her hot coffee over her hand. “Ah, damn.”
Mya shook her head. “Oooh. You said a bad word.”
“Sorry.”
“Can we have twenty dollars?”
“Twenty dollars? For what?” She headed toward her purse.
“For the pizza party. Remember? You signed the school permission slip.”
Klaudya sighed. “Still, twenty dollars for a couple of slices of pizza? That’s highway robbery.”
Mya and Mykell looked at each other and rolled their eyes. “Here.” Klaudya handed over the money with a delayed smile and then kissed each of them on the forehead. “Have a good day at school.”
Mykell winked. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Still smiling, Klaudya fixed another breakfast plate while Ruthie washed the dishes.
“Are you sure that’s enough?” Ruthie asked and then piled a few more strips of bacon onto the plate.
Klaudya turned up her nose but having a vegan household had never taken root. Humming, she exited out of the side kitchen door and walked over the blocks of stone leading to the tower. Like a natural waitress, she balanced the breakfast tray on the one hand and retrieved the key to the lock from her robe.
She entered and closed the door with the heel of her foot. Inside, she climbed a set of narrow stairs. At the top was another door, which required a second key. “Good morning.”
A chained Javid lay in bed and groaned. He’d been running a fever for the past week while the island had a rare week of rain. The tower was cold and drafty. The one window had been sealed and soundproofed, and Klaudya had the only key, to prevent the children from wandering inside and discovering their father alive.
“Still not feeling well?”
“Please,” Javid croaked, licking his lips. “I need to see a doctor.” His scraggly wet hair plastered to his head. His skin matched the shade of paste.
She chuckled. “And people in hell want iced water. Guess who will get what they want first?” She went to place the tray on the table by the bed, but it was broken. “What happened to the table?”
Javid writhed. “Doctor,” he begged.
“No doctors.” She set the tray on the floor. “They don’t treat dead people, and you’ve been dead for three years. Surely you haven’t forgotten.”
“Please.”
Setting her hands on her hips, she assessed the amount of sweat blanketing his body. “I have to admit, you don’t look too good.”
A nasty cough racked his chest. After a minute, Klaudya edged closer. When she pressed her hand against his forehead, Javid sprung. He raised a broken table leg to strike, but Klaudya’s Taser was faster.
“Aaaagh!” His eyes rolled to the back of his head before he crashed back onto the bed.
“Asshole.” Also from her pocket, she pulled out a remote. The chains reeled, stretching each of his four limbs to four separate posts on the bed until it was impossible for him to move.
After the immediate danger was over, Klaudya laughed. “Nice try, baby.”
Panting, Javid glared. “Get me out of this shit!”
“No. No. No.” She leaned over him and brushed his wet hair from his face. “You’re not leaving. Ever. We said vows. We’re in this shit together for better or for worse and ’til death do us part.” She kissed him. “And I meant that shit.”<
br />
TEARS OF BLOOD
A’zayler
PROLOGUE
May 2010
“Put the money in the bag!” Kayden’s black 9mm handgun was pointed at the terrified cashier. “I don’t have all night.”
The bald spot in the center of his head was on full display as he held his head down and pounded the buttons on the register. With one hand still in the air and the other tapping away on the raggedy, plastic-covered machine, it took a little longer than Kayden would have liked for the cash drawer to pop out. When it finally did, Kayden tossed the dark green Crown Royal liquor bag over the counter, hitting the man’s unsteady hands.
“Fill that shit up.” Kayden held his gun steady as he looked over his shoulder.
With Davion, a local corner boy, standing guard outside of the door, Kayden was free to handle his business on the inside. A Pepsi and a bag of Hot and Spicy Skins was all it had taken to convince Davion to keep his eyes peeled. Judging by how empty that register looked, Kayden was glad.
There was no way in the world that he was going to give away any of the money, especially to a nigga who hadn’t done anything. Kayden was greedy, which was the main reason why he normally did dirt on his own. But tonight was different.
He needed to be in and out with no distractions. It was twenty minutes after seven, and he needed to be in his seat and ready for graduation practice within the next twenty minutes, or he wouldn’t be walking the stage. Twelve years of hard work would be shoved down the drain all because he couldn’t shake his hunger for dead presidents.
The cashier tossed the bag across the counter. “That’s all I have. Take it and leave. Please go!”
Kayden frowned at the man, feeling a tad disrespected, but chose to go ahead and ignore his fearful gesture. Had it been any other night, Kayden probably wouldn’t have let him off so easy, but since it was past time for him to go, he would let it slide.
With the bag now tucked securely in the pocket of his baggy jeans, Kayden took off, running out of the gas station. He tossed the snacks to Davion without breaking his stride and continued down the sidewalk, headed up the hill toward his high school.
No Loyalty Page 12
