“That’s insane,” Shari said.
“Right,” Drake added. “It doesn’t even sound right. First off, Belinda wouldn’t go talk to some strange little girl. You know she has a thing about germs.”
“Belinda did talk to Kayla at the fund-raiser,” Malik countered. “She said she felt drawn to her since the little girl was alone, with no parents to watch her perform in the cheerleading competitions.”
“But I thought you said Mrs. Martin was her mother and she was there,” Carter interjected before Drake could make another statement.
“I didn’t know Mrs. Martin had a daughter there. I’ve never seen her with her daughter. But today she said Kayla was her daughter and I’m assuming Kayla has run away.”
“Damn,” Drake said. “This is not good.”
“This is ridiculous,” Shari said. “Belinda is not a kidnapper.”
“I don’t know what’s been going through her head lately,” Daisy said. “First the situation at my event and I had to smooth over things with the Mastersons after that. Now this. I don’t know, Matt. Maybe she needs to see someone, talk to someone about what’s going on with her.”
“There’s nothing going on with Belinda,” Malik interrupted.
“Malik,” Daisy started, “I know you two have gotten close over the years, but this is my daughter. I think I know when something’s going on with her.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, I’m telling you that nothing is going on with her. Belinda is just fine. In fact, she’s better than fine,” he said with conviction. He’d seen such a change in her the past few days. She was calmer, her brow not wrinkling so much as she tried to keep the control she was known for. She hadn’t argued about staying at his place, even though she did make him move his sofa table closer to the door so she could set her purse there when she came in. And she’d dragged him to the store with her while she purchased feather-filled pillows like the one she had at her apartment, to place on the right side of his bed where she slept.
She was still Belinda, but she was different. She was evolving and he loved that about her.
“He’s right, Aunt Daisy,” Carter said, coming to stand beside Malik.
It was totally unnecessary. Malik didn’t need anybody to back him up. He knew he was right about Belinda and he wasn’t the least bit concerned about how Daisy felt about them being together.
Still, it felt good and he silently looked over to Carter, giving him a nod of thanks.
“Belinda’s doing well. She’s been talking about plans for the competition and maybe taking some time off this summer. She’s good,” Carter told Daisy.
“She’s in jail, Carter. Did you forget that little part of this scenario?” Daisy snapped. “That’s not good!”
“Not for much longer,” Mitchell Panelos said, coming to join the group.
“What happened? Is she getting out?” Shari was asking, her shoulders sagging just a bit like she was the one now carrying the weight of the world.
“She’s going to be released. There’s no evidence against her. Nothing but the words of Mrs. Martin. The girl is still missing, but there’s nothing to connect Belinda with that. Besides, she has alibis for when the girl went missing and a verified reason why she was at the library.”
“Thanks, Mitchell,” Malik said, reaching out a hand to shake the attorney’s.
“No problem. And no charge,” he told Malik with a nod. “But I’ll be sending you the ball I received from one of your games for an autograph.”
“You got it,” Malik agreed with a smile.
* * *
The questions had gone on for what seemed like forever. All the while Belinda had sat with her back straight in a hard chair, staring at the officer who had handcuffed her, completely cooperating. The small room with its stale air was a little stifling and at one point she’d thought she might actually faint, but she’d reached for control and clasped her hands in her lap. All she had to do was answer their questions, tell the truth and this would all be over.
“So you haven’t seen or spoken to Kayla Washington since that day at the library?” Officer Bent asked.
“That’s correct,” she said, her throat growing dry. “I met her at the rec center, the day of the fund-raiser. That was on a Sunday. That following Wednesday I went to the library to check on my schedule and she was there. We talked for maybe fifteen minutes. She asked about some books and I recommended a couple of new young adult releases. She left with her group leader and I stayed at the library another fifteen minutes speaking with the branch manager.”
“And the first you heard of her running away was when?”
“When you told me,” she replied.
The moment he’d said Kayla was missing Belinda had felt like a weight was crushing her chest. Her breathing had become labored and that’s when she thought she would faint. Anxiety had crept up quickly, wrapping its ugly hands around her neck and holding it in a death grip. Until she’d pushed it away. It hadn’t been easy, but necessary. Belinda had no idea where Kayla was and she certainly hadn’t encouraged her to go in any way. Those were the facts and nobody could dispute them. Nobody with an ounce of sense, so Chantelle’s allegations were just as off-kilter as the woman herself.
The episode had lasted less than five minutes. She’d blinked and focused until clarity was second nature and she’d told the officer what she knew. In the back of her mind she knew they couldn’t hold her, couldn’t charge her without some concrete proof. Still, sitting here under this interrogation was making her quite uneasy. When Mitchell Panelos walked into the room, introducing himself as her attorney, she’d felt nothing but relief.
“Thank you for coming down with us, Ms. Drayson-Jones.”
She looked at the officer once more. “I didn’t have much choice, did I?”
“A fact that I will be taking up with your superiors and quite possibly your legal department,” Mr. Panelos told him in a no-nonsense voice.
He’d taken her by the arm and helped her up from the table. Officer Bent had taken a step back in defense, his cheeks turning ruby-red.
“We were simply following a lead. Mrs. Martin filed a complaint and we executed on it.”
“You handcuffed her and brought her down here under the pretense that she was being charged,” Panelos told him more vehemently.
“But we never charged her. I simply read her her rights. I didn’t formally arrest her.”
“She would have come in for questioning on her own if you’d just told her what you wanted. Dragging her out of her place of employment was unnecessary and most likely damaging,” he continued to explain.
Belinda wasn’t damaged. Or at least she was almost certain she wasn’t. It was unpleasant and yes, unnecessary, but she wouldn’t give Chantelle Martin the pleasure of damaging her in any way.
“We can just go now, right?” she prompted.
Officer Bent nodded quickly. “Yes. Yes, ma’am. You’re free to leave.”
He and Panelos exchanged a glare as they walked out of the room. Belinda didn’t speak again until they were about to go through the double doors she knew led to the waiting room.
“Thank you,” she said to Panelos, who was still holding on to her arm. “I don’t know who hired you but I’ll make sure you’re compensated for your time.”
“Your boyfriend hired me. But believe me, it was my pleasure. I’ve been buying my mother’s birthday cake from Lillian’s for ten years now.”
When she looked up at him, he was smiling. A nice handsome smile that she was sure made some woman weak in the knees. As for her, each time Malik did something thoughtful for her, like hiring an attorney to get her out of jail, it wasn’t weakness Belinda felt, but the strength of their love for each other.
That strength was about to be tested, she thought as she walked through the double doors to see her entire family waiting for her. Belinda didn’t run to her mother, who had suddenly begun to tear up, or to her father, who looked toward her expectantly.
She walked straight into Malik’s arms and held on to him just as tightly as he was holding on to her. It felt good right here, safe, not provoking or adding to an anxiety attack.
“All right, let’s get you home,” Daisy said from behind her.
The brisk tone of her mother’s voice interrupted the calm Belinda had fought so hard for in the past few hours. Pulling away from Malik slightly, she could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to tell her mother to shut up. But he would never disrespect Daisy or any of her family members, she knew that for sure.
Belinda was all about respecting her family as well, as long as they respected her in return. Slowly she left his grasp and turned to face her parents. She went to her father because he’d always been a rock in her life, always listening to her every word, giving her all the love and support she could ever ask for. Wrapping her arms around him, she held on for a minute, inhaling his familiar scent. “I’m okay,” she whispered to him.
When her father released her, she came up on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his bristly cheek. He smiled down at her and courage blossomed in her chest.
Then she moved to her mother and held her, as well.
“I’m going home with Malik,” she said in no uncertain terms. “I will call you tomorrow.”
Daisy, of course, disagreed. “Belinda, I am not going to stand here and—”
“Oh, shut up, Daisy,” Grandma said, pushing her way between Daisy and Matt to get to Belinda.
Nobody knew she had arrived until she spoke. Now she came through the crowd like the force that she was.
She stepped right up to Belinda and put a hand on her cheek. “You all right?” she asked with great concern.
Belinda nodded. “I’m okay. It was a misunderstanding,” she told them without going into more detail.
“Good. Go on home and get some rest. I don’t want you in the bakery again until Monday,” Lillian told her.
“But we have orders and Friday we were going to do a test run of some items for the competition,” Belinda argued.
Lillian was already shaking her head. “No. You stay home and rest. We’ll do the test run next week. You need to take some time for you. All this working and running around is stupid and you’ve been doing it for far too long.”
Hallelujah, her heart sang. Someone else had finally said what she’d been afraid to believe. “You’re right,” Belinda said, and tried to ignore the surprised look on the faces of her family members. “I do need a break.”
Drake looked like he wanted to say something else, but he quickly closed his mouth when Lillian shot him a searing glare. And when Malik reached for her hand, she eagerly accepted it. He led her through the crowd and she spied Carter making a “call me” signal to Malik as they left. Drake didn’t look their way at all, but stood near his mother, his hand on her shoulder for support. It was Shari who stopped them to give Belinda a quick hug. “Glad you took my advice and snapped him up right quick,” she said with a smile.
Belinda’s answer was a smile in response. “So am I.”
Chapter 18
They were going back to her place to pick up some clothes. Thanks to Lillian she’d be off for the rest of the week. During that time Belinda decided she would make it a point to visit with Shari and Andre at home. There was still something going on there, she saw it in Shari’s eyes as she’d left the police station. And she would also work on some ideas from the competition. That was still a very important step in the history of Lillian’s Bakery, one she was determined to play an integral—but not controlling—part in.
The ride across town had been quiet except for
Malik’s apology. The one she hadn’t needed, but accepted anyway because it seemed so important to him.
“If I had put Chantelle in her place a long time ago, this would never have happened,” he explained.
“I don’t know if that’s true. Some people are just too hardheaded for their own good.” The words had made her smile but she’d noticed Malik still frowned. “I know you didn’t mean for any of this to happen, and believe me, I don’t think any of it was your fault. She’s crazy, not you. Or me, for that matter. Besides, it’s over. We can get on with our lives now.”
She lifted a hand to cup his cheek.
“Is that what you want? To get on with our lives?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
Leaning forward, she kissed his lips lightly. “That’s exactly what I want.”
After the car was parked and they’d taken the elevator up to her floor, Malik used the keys she’d already given him and moved to unlock the door. When he touched the doorknob, it turned because it was already unlocked.
He immediately extended an arm out in front of her, pushing her back. “Get your cell and dial 9-1-1,” he told her.
“Don’t go in there,” she was saying as she rooted around in her purse for her phone.
Malik ignored her. He was already heading into the apartment.
At first glance Belinda didn’t see anything out of place and it looked as if all her stuff was there. The plasma television was still bolted to the wall; the few bronze pieces were still on the stand where she kept them. Malik paused a second to pick one up, holding it in his hand like a weapon and proceeded into the dining room. She followed behind him.
“It’s my apartment, Malik. I know you didn’t think I was going to wait outside.”
She had her arms folded tightly around herself. Knowing damned well that’s what he’d intended for her to do.
“Don’t touch anything,” she told him, ignoring the fact that he looked at her strangely.
“I’m not going to touch,” he said, then stopped when they both heard glass breaking in the kitchen.
“Stay here,” he told her specifically this time.
But the minute he’d pushed through the swinging kitchen door and paused suddenly, Belinda slammed against his back. Malik didn’t even turn around.
“What the hell?” he said as they spotted the young girl kneeling down and picking up pieces of shattered glass off the floor.
“You scared me and I dropped it,” she said in defense, her big brown eyes etched with fear.
Belinda came from behind him. “Kayla? What are you doing here?”
Kayla stood, going to the trash can with as much familiarity as if she lived here. “You said if I needed you, you’d be here. When I showed up last night, I knocked and knocked, but you weren’t here.”
“So you broke in?” Malik asked, crossing the room to where she’d been and kneeling to pick up the rest of the glass.
“I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” she said slowly. “Are you mad at me?”
“Of course I’m not mad, Kayla.” Belinda had moved also and was now pulling Kayla close for a hug. “But all you had to do was call me. I would have come and picked you up.”
Hearing herself say those words, Belinda knew she would have done just that. It didn’t matter to her that this child had a mother and possibly a father someplace. If Kayla had reached out in need, Belinda would have been there to supply it. It was as simple as that.
“But you do have some explaining to do,” she told her. “And we have to clean up this mess.” Because it was already working on Belinda’s nerves.
Obviously the little girl was hungry because she’d gone through all the cabinets looking for something she could fix to eat. It looked like she’d settled on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
She began passing Kayla things to put away while Malik retrieved the broom and dustpan from the slim utility closet near the door and swept the remaining glass off the floor.
“Why did you run away?” Belinda asked while they moved, trying to keep the scene as calm as she could, keeping in mind she’d already called 9-1-1 and the police would be here momentarily.
“She doesn’t care about me. All she worries about is Jarrod and Jaylen. She buys them everything for basketball, just everything. But when I ask for something, she tells me she doesn’t have
any money and I need to start helping out around the house. That’s all she wants me to do—clean and cook and act like the mother. I’m not the mother!” Kayla said vehemently.
Belinda held open the dishwasher as Kayla lined the plate and the utensils she’d used in the appropriate slots. Closing the door and pushing the settings, Belinda felt her heart breaking for this child.
“You’re not the mother,” she told Kayla. “But you are just a child. Running away was wrong. You worried a lot of people.”
“I’m sorry if I worried you,” Kayla said earnestly. “But she doesn’t care. All she cares about is the check she gets because my father was killed. If I’m not living with her, she doesn’t get that check anymore.”
“She gets a social security check for you?” Malik asked.
Kayla nodded. Her ponytail was a lot messier than it had been at the rec center and she was wearing faded capri jeans and a white shirt with some sort of cartoon character on the front. She was only fourteen, Belinda thought with a pang of sadness. Fourteen and wandering around the streets of Chicago on her own because she didn’t think her mother wanted her. It was a shame.
“You know we have to take you back,” Malik continued as he’d moved to stand on the other side of Kayla.
“But why can’t I just stay here with you?”
She looked up at Belinda so imploringly and Belinda wanted to wrap her arms around her again and tell her she could. She wanted to keep this little girl and raise her as her own. Her heart pounded in her chest, this time not with anxiety, but with emotion that she couldn’t quite explain.
“I can’t, Kayla.” When the girl looked away like she didn’t want Belinda to see her cry, Belinda touched a hand to her cheek and turned her back to face her. “Not because I don’t want to, because I do. You have no idea how much I’d love to bring you to live with me and raise you as my own. But that’s not how the world works.”
“If she doesn’t want me, then I don’t want her!” Kayla said defiantly.
Decadent Dreams (The Draysons: Sprinkled with Love) Page 17
