All I've Ever Wanted

by Adrianne Byrd

  “Did you have just a little too much to drink last night?” she asked, dropping a hand to her hip, but continuing to smile.

  “What makes you ask?”

  “I don’t know. You’re wearing dark sunglasses indoors.”

  “I guess you got me.” Keenan reached into his jacket. He watched the waitress’s eyes widen when he withdrew a wad of money. The look in her eyes told him that she could be bought. “You know, now that I think about it, there is something that you can get me.”

  “You name it, sugar.”

  “Information.”

  District Attorney Judith Mason leafed through the remaining papers stacked on Underwood’s desk. She half hoped that something would jump out at her—something that would tell her what had really been going on with her colleague. Everyone knew that there was no love lost between her and her ex son-in-law.

  For years she had suspected that he was dirty—involved with God knows what. Yet, Underwood was a smart man. She’d remained convinced that he’d always stayed one step ahead of her and the authorities.

  She tossed the papers back onto the desk and pushed back in the chair with a sigh of disappointment. There was a chance that she’d been wrong about him.

  She considered the possibility carefully before she shrugged it off. Her instincts were too strong where Underwood was concerned. She was willing to bet anything that he was as corrupt as they came. But proving it was a different story.

  She glanced at her watch. The police and the FBI would be arriving any moment. She gathered the folders she needed and headed to the conference room.

  Detectives Collier and Dossman arrived promptly at one o’clock and Lt. Scardino, Captain Vincent and two agents with the FBI shortly after.

  “Now that we’re all here, let’s get started,” she said with a brief smile. “As requested, I’ve gathered information regarding current case files Underwood had open, and prepared a list of the cases he’d finished or had been associated with in the past ten years. If you need access to anything on that list, you can call anyone here in the office and they will help you.”

  Max opened the manila folder he’d been handed and quickly scanned the contents. He shook his head. “May I ask you a few questions?” he asked, glancing up.

  “Shoot.” Judith crossed her arms and gave him her full attention.

  “How was Underwood’s behavior around the office in the days before his death?”

  “Upon reflection, I would have to say he came across as if he was nervous about something.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t know—he seemed distracted, jumpy even,” Judith answered.

  Scardino leaned back in her chair and asked, “Did you ever question him about it?”

  “Actually, I did. Friday, the day of his murder, I made a point to stop by his office before I headed out myself. I remember, just before I knocked on his door, that I could hear he was in a heated argument with someone on the phone.”

  “Did you hear what he was saying?” Dossman said, joining in the questioning.

  Judith shrugged her shoulders. “All I recall was hearing a stream of obscenities before he slammed the phone down. I knocked then, and entered when he barked for me to do so.”

  “And?” Max asked.

  “He was clearly agitated and none too happy to see me at his door.” She uncrossed her arms. “You see, Marion and I weren’t exactly on the best of terms. I’m sure everyone in this office will tell you that.”

  “But you two have been able to work together for many years, haven’t you?” Max leaned forward, keeping his gaze level with hers.

  “Well, on paper, Marion Underwood was a good lawyer for the State.”

  “On paper?” he asked.

  “How do I say this?” She looked away, struggling with her personal feelings toward Underwood. “It’s nothing that I can point out physically. I can’t hold up a piece of paper and say, ‘See here, the man is dirty.’ He was too smart for that. Yet, if you ever had anything to do with him—if you knew him personally—you’d know to walk away from him searching your back for knives. Does that make any sense?”

  From the way people were nodding, it made perfect sense to most of them.

  “So, you don’t think that we’ll find anything in these cases?” Max asked, returning his gaze to the manila folder.

  “In my opinion, no.”

  Scardino cut in. “Why is that?”

  “Because I’ve already tried.”

  Max left the D.A.’s office convinced that their investigation was stalled. He, like Judith Mason, didn’t believe that they would find anything in the case information.

  “So, what do you want to do now?” Dossman asked, sliding on a pair of Ray-Bans.

  “Frankly, I think that our best bet is to stay close to Ms. St. James.”

  “I’m starting to think that you’re developing quite a crush on the lady.”

  “It’s not that.” Max shook his head. “It’s just a hunch that she’s what’s going to lead us to the killers.”

  Dossman’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “It doesn’t hurt that she’s easy on the eyes, does it?”

  Scardino stepped out of the building. Max looked up and smiled to himself. “I think you have your hands full with your own women problems. I figure the last thing you’d be concerned about is who I am or am not attracted to.”

  Dossman followed his gaze, and then swung back to look at Max curiously. “Now what’s that supposed to mean?”

  Max laughed heartily as he slid on his sunglasses and walked away.

  Kennedy broke her routine and decided to take Tommy and Jimmy to Piedmont Park. She had all but made up her mind to send her son to stay with her grandmother, at least until things died down. As she watched him and his friend play Nerf ball, she missed him already. It’s only temporary, she assured herself.

  She hoped that she was not overreacting—that there was no real threat to her or her son—but she didn’t want to take any chances.

  “That’s a nice kid you got there,” the raspy voice said from behind her.

  She jumped and pivoted on her heel.

  Keenan Lawrence smiled, but his eyes did not.

  Speech eluded her as her mind filled with images of doom.

  “I take it you know who I am,” he went on to say. He circled her.

  “I’ve seen you in the neighborhood.” She was surprised to have found her voice.

  “Is that right?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s good. I’ve seen you around, too.”

  She didn’t respond, she couldn’t.

  “I knew your father, too. Did you know that?”

  Kennedy shook her head, but it was a lie. Her father had hated Keenan—hated everything he represented. It had been no surprise to him when Keenan had risen through the ranks and become the leader of The Skulls. Standing this close to what she’d been raised to believe was the closest thing to the devil, she knew Keenan’s being here wasn’t a good sign.

  “You must have this thing for cops.”

  “How so?” she chanced asking.

  He shrugged. “I’ve just noticed them hanging around you a lot lately.”

  She cringed and cursed Det. Collier and Dossman for their carelessness. Their constant snooping might have just sealed her fate. “Why would you notice something like that?” She hoped she managed to look innocent.

  “I make sure I know everything that goes on in these streets. That’s part of my job.”

  An awkward silence grew between them as the gang leader continued to walk around her.

  Kennedy stood still despite the fact her skin crawled. She clung to the hope that he wouldn’t have the balls to kill her in a crowded park, in broad daylight.

  “I can’t see why you would want to watch me.”

  “Can’t you?”

  She shook her head. His words were like a sharp pin, puncturing her bubble of hope.

  When he reached toward her, it took
everything she had not to recoil. As he brushed back a wisp of her hair, the corners of his lips lifted again in a smile that looked sinister. “Did anybody ever tell you that you are a striking woman, Ms. St. James?”

  She lifted her chin defiantly, struggling to comprehend the direction of their conversation.

  “It’s a shame for all this beauty to go to waste.”

  Puzzled, yet wary, she took a step back.

  “How about a proposition?”

  She didn’t like the sound of that. From the corner of her eyes, she could see the boys were still playing, both oblivious to her dilemma.

  “Are you going to ask me about my proposition?”

  “I’m not interested.”

  He laughed, and the sound heightened her anxiety. “How can you say that? You haven’t even heard what it is yet.”

  “I’m sure it can’t be anything good.”

  He lifted his broad hands to cover what should have been his heart. “Now I’m hurt.”

  She said nothing.

  He shrugged. “Look, I’m a businessman, plain and simple. And standing here, it just occurred to me that we can help each other out. I tell you what—it beats the hell out of waitressing.”

  Slowly she comprehended his offer. “Are you suggesting that I come work for you?”

  Again he shrugged. “It’s good money.”

  “You’ve lost your mind.”

  His smile vanished. “You think that you’re too good to come work for me?”

  Animosity radiated off him.

  Kennedy took another step back.

  “I think it would be poetic justice that the late, great, Supercop’s daughter ended up on my payroll. Of course—” he stepped forward and returned his hand to her hair “—I have to test the goods myself.”

  In a panic, she turned away from him and raced toward the children. His malicious laughter rang in her ears. “Tommy. Jimmy. Get your things. We’re leaving.”

  Chapter 12

  “Mommy, are you all right?” Tommy asked, watching her as she threw his clothes into an old suitcase.

  “Mommy’s fine, sweetheart.” Kennedy didn’t break stride long enough to look up at her son. She had to hurry.

  “Are we going somewhere?”

  “You’re going to go visit your grandmother. Wouldn’t you like that?” She kept moving.

  “Are you going, too?”

  She stopped then. She realized that her son’s voice sounded small and frightened. Slowly, she turned and sat on the unmade twin bed and waved him over to her lap.

  He hesitated and looked as if he was on the verge of tears.

  “Come here, sweetheart,” she said, patting her lap.

  This time he came to her, his eyes wide and questioning.

  Kennedy picked him up and placed him on her lap. “I wish I could go with you, honey, but I can’t.” Her tears threatened to surface.

  “Why not?”

  “For one thing, I can’t afford it. I have to stay here and work.”

  Fat tears filled his eyes and rolled through his long curly lashes. “Did I do something wrong, Mommy?”

  She hugged him to her. “No, baby. It’s nothing like that.”

  He pulled back and looked at her as if he didn’t believe her. “Then why do I have to go? Don’t you want me here with you?”

  Her vision blurred and tears trickled down her face. It felt as if her heart were being ripped from her chest. “If I had my way, I would never leave your side. But you’re going to have to trust me on this, okay?”

  He simply stared at her, his tears running down his small face.

  “Do you trust me?” she asked.

  He nodded without hesitation, but his obvious confusion remained. “How long will I be gone?”

  “Not long, sweetie.”

  “How long is that?”

  He wanted a definite answer to an unanswerable question. “I don’t know, honey,” she said, hugging him to her. “I don’t know.”

  Over the next few minutes, Kennedy realized she had another problem on her hands. How was she going to get Tommy safely out of town without alerting Keenan or his street thugs? She didn’t doubt for a minute that he knew everything that went on on his streets. And she had no doubt that he was making it a point to watch her.

  Again she cursed Detectives Collier and Dossman. She was certain that their repeated appearances had attracted Keenan’s unwanted attention to her.

  The fact of the matter was that she was left with very few options, especially since she didn’t own a car. Jumping on MARTA with her son and a suitcase would be downright stupid.

  She thought of Wanda, but knew her husband would be at work and had their only car. She could ask Tyne, but she knew for a fact that if she did, little Ms. Busybody would show up asking too many questions.

  She sent Tommy out to pick a few toys to bring along on his trip. While he rummaged in the living room, Kennedy paced the floor, distraught over her inability to come up with a plan. Then she thought of Reverend Warner. She trusted the reverend and his wife but, if her apartment was being watched, Keenan’s spies would probably follow her son to the bus stop regardless of who took him.

  Her stomach churned with anxiety. She didn’t have the first clue about how to execute her plan.

  Just then, Tommy came to tell her that the pot of water on the stove was boiling.

  She managed to reward him with a wide smile and struggled not to weep. As she passed him in the doorway, she playfully pinched his cheek and went to finish his favorite meal: hot dogs.

  When she brought their food to the table, the sports-caster on the Channel Five news caught her attention. She found the remote and turned up the volume.

  The day’s baseball scores gave her the beginning of an idea. The Atlanta Braves had just beaten the Houston Astros with the score of eight to two. That meant the series was tied, two to two. The final game would be tomorrow evening at Turner Field.

  Turner Field, she thought, a person could easily get lost in such a large crowd. A slow smile curved her lips as she turned toward Tommy. “How would you like to see a baseball game tomorrow night?”

  Scardino shook her head. “I don’t know about this one, Collier,” she said, sitting behind her desk. They had just briefed her about their suspicions involving Ms. St. James. “You have no proof that she saw anything.”

  “I have a hunch,” Collier answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “Let me and Dossman tail her for twenty-four hours and see what we turn up.”

  “Then what?”

  “If we come up empty-handed, then we’ll try something else.”

  She drew in a deep breath, obviously considering his proposal. “If she was an accidental witness, I don’t see what good tailing her is going to do. By your own admission, you don’t think that she’s a co-conspirator, so I don’t see the point of surveillance. What do you think, Mike?”

  Again with the Mike. Max turned amused eyes to his partner.

  Dossman shifted uncomfortably. “I’m pretty much just along for the ride. Max says he has a hunch, and I don’t see how it could hurt to just see where it leads.”

  “The way I see it—” Max brought the lieutenant’s attention back to him “—I don’t think that we’re the only ones watching her.”

  She frowned. “You think The Skulls are watching her?”

  “Dossman and I have both crossed paths with Keenan Lawrence before. He strikes me as a very smart man. I’m thinking that, if he’s aware that there’s a witness, he’s going to pull out all stops to find out who it is.”

  “And you’re sure that it’s Ms. St. James?”

  Max nodded.

  Scardino bridged her hands beneath her chin, and then spread them out on her desktop. “All right. You have twenty-four hours.” Her direct gaze centered on Max. “I just hope you’re right about this. I don’t like the idea of wasting time on this case.”

  He smiled. “Thanks. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.”

>   “Let’s hope that you’re right.”

  Keenan took a seat across from his boss. Despite the confident air he’d hoped to convey, he looked nervous. He obviously didn’t like the way his boss’s two mesomorphic bodyguards stood behind him.

  “Comfortable?” His boss’s hard, clipped voice jerked Keenan’s attention back to awareness of who was more important.

  “Uh, yeah.” Keenan adjusted his jacket while wondering why the lights were so dim.

  “How about a drink—in celebration of a job well done.”

  He hesitated for a moment, knowing that poisoning was a real possibility. Yet, to decline could be equally fatal. “Sure,” he said reluctantly.

  “Good, good.”

  Almost instantly, two drinks were set on the table.

  Keenan stared at the amber liquid for several heartbeats before his boss raised his glass.

  “Cheers.”

  “Cheers,” Keenan echoed, then tossed his head back, allowing the liquid to slide down his throat. When he returned the glass to the table, his employer was staring at him with steel-gray eyes.

  “Tell me, did everything go according to plan?”

  Keenan shifted in his chair. He suspected that his boss already knew the answer to that question. “Pretty much.” He refrained from elaborating.

  The silence in the room seemed deafening. To Keenan, his heartbeat sounded more like a jackhammer, while his breathing was more like the rush of a tornado.

  “Now, why don’t I believe that?”

  “You wanted Marion Underwood dead. He’s dead. You left the details up to me.”

  His boss smiled. “True. But there has always been an understanding between us. No witnesses. How many men did you take with you?”

  “Since when has the loyalty of my men ever been an issue?”

  “Since you decided to execute a prominent lawyer, instead of making his death look like an accident. Yes, I left the details up to you, but I expected you to use your head.”

  Keenan glanced away, but said, “I had an old score to settle.”

  “Tell me about this potential witness I keep hearing about.”

  “I have that under control,” he assured him.